The Magic behind Dandelions and Bows
by Milarqui
Summary: What if Katniss paid more attention to the baker's son? What if Peeta knew the huntress better? What if the two of them were among the few living people that were capable of do amazing things with a flick of their hands? What if Katniss and Peeta could do magic? Watch as they go into a very different Hunger Games and start the spark of freedom...
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, Harry Potter, Castle, Once Upon A Time, El Internado or anything else. I might own something in the future, when I write my own books, but for the moment nothing.**

**Prologue**

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am sixteen years old. I am five feet seven. I weigh one hundred and twenty-two pounds. My hair is long and black. My eyes are gray. I have olive skin. I live with my mother and my sister Prim in District Twelve, in the Seam, where the coal miners live. I am the main provider for my family. I hunt, I fight, I trade.

I have been doing this for five years. Almost. Ever since my father died in the mines, I have had to. Mom fell in a depression after Dad died, and was pretty much unable to take care of Prim and me. I hate her for doing this. For leaving Prim and me alone. She did nothing for us.

Dad was a miner. And a hunter. He was the one that taught me most I know about hunting, and many other things. Important things. If it were not for what he did, the three of us would have died.

I hunt. I use a bow and arrows. They were Dad's, but now they are mine. He had left them at the forest a couple of days before dying, so I pretty much inherited them. It took me some time before I was able to use them both. Now, I can easily kill a squirrel or a rabbit from fifteen meters by shooting it into the eye. I do it that way because it kills them instantly – it prevents them from running away –, it makes no holes in the skin – an intact skin is worth a lot more than one with holes – and it does not touch any internal organs beyond the brain – so the meat does not get contaminated by their inner foulness.

I fight. I fight for my life and that of my family. Learning how to use the bow was hard. Learning how to throw a knife was hard, too. But hunger is a powerful teacher. Mine, Prim's and Mom's. They both relied, and still rely, on what I could hunt and forage in the forest, and what I could get through other means. So, I go into the woods and break the law daily, because not only it allows me to feed my family, but also because many others like the meat I provide.

I trade. A squirrel can sell for a bread loaf, two if it is big enough. A turkey can get me enough vegetables for a few days. Half of the deer I killed a few years ago helped me to get Lady, my sister's goat, which provides us with milk, wool and, every year, we manage to get an extra by getting her to stud. Most of this, of course, is done in the underground market, which we call the Hob. Fortunately, the Peacekeepers are not utter bastards, and they allow the people of the Seam to trade there, as long as we are not too obvious. A few of them are actually among our best clients, like Cray, the Head Peacekeeper, or Darius.

There are few people I can consider myself close to, apart from my sister. One of them is Madge Undersee, the Mayor's daughter. Even though she is considered part of the Merchants, she is not like all those other Merchant girls who would not know the difference between a maple tree and a pine tree. I met her when I was trying to find a buyer for a bucket of wild strawberries I had found at the forest. She loves them, so she has become another great client, and a friend. She sits with me at lunchtime, we speak about things, and every year, she gets as many strawberries as I can find.

Another is my best friend, the older brother I never had. Gale Hawthorne. Two years older than me, with dark hair and eyes that point out he is Seam, too. His father died in the same accident Dad did. His mother was able to recover from her depression and find a job, but in exchange he has three siblings (Rory, Vick and Posy), which means he has to hunt for five people. We met when I was twelve and hunting on my own. I had found a rabbit in one of his snares, and he thought I was going to steal it, but we became good partners very soon. Hunting and foraging was easier with a partner, and we divided everything we got in half.

And then... there is Peeta Mellark. He is my age. His blond hair and blue eyes place him as a Merchant, just like Mom was before meeting Dad. His family has a bakery. His father, Mr Mellark, is one of the nicest people I have ever met, and he loves the taste of squirrel, so he is one of our clients, and I suspect that what he gives us as payment is far more than what the squirrel's are actually worth. How he married that witch that calls herself Mrs Mellark, I have no idea. Peeta also has two elder brothers, Marko and Rye. I have only seen them a few times, but they do have some fame, particularly Rye, who has won the wrestling tournament several times. The last time, though, I think he only won because Peeta let him.

But there is more to Peeta than just those things. He is special. To me, at least.

We have been in the same class since we were five. However, we hardly spoke to each other, as we each had our own circle of friends. Until five years ago, that is. Now, we do speak sometimes when we meet. That happens, mostly, when I am at the bakery to trade with Peeta's father and he is working there. However, we say little. It feels... unnecessary to share things aloud. Instead, we just look at each other. I do not know why, but one look into those hypnotizing blue eyes of his, one gesture, one shrug, tells me how he is. And then, he smiles, and I need to look away so that he does not see me blush, and to calm the strange feeling of butterflies in my stomach.

And I always know if he is near. As if I can hear him, but without the sound. It just... happens. No matter where I am or what I am doing, I know. If I am at school, I know if he has arrived before or after me. At the canteen, I can pinpoint the exact moment in which he enters. I do not even need to knock on the door to know if he is working in the bakery or if he is at home.

At first, it was confusing. Feeling that strange pull was something that really felt weird. I do not know why it happens, but I have a theory. I feel it because... he saved my life, twice over.

I can still remember as if it had just happened. Dad had died a few months before. Mum just sat on the bed she had shared with Dad for years, and she was still catatonic. We had run out of the little money the Capitol had given us, and I was still five weeks away from being able to sign up for tesserae, which would have given us enough grain and oil for a year. We were down to drinking mint tea, and I knew we needed food. That was why I braved the trashcans behind the houses in the Merchant part of District 12. Anything I could find there that was eatable, I could still bring something out of it.

When I went behind the bakery, I saw that their cans were empty, and that was when Mrs Mellark saw me. She shouted at me to stay away from their house, and then she came inside. I lost all hope, and decided to take refuge under an apple tree. I had surrendered already. I was actually hoping to _die_ then and there, in the backyard of the bakery, because I knew I could not bear to go back home and see Prim and Mom waste away in front of me.

Then, I heard a slap. Mrs Mellark shouted again. Even through the walls, I could hear her berate and insult someone for being a waste of space and for ruining some bread by throwing it into the fire, and then shouted to whomever had done that to go outside and throw the burned bread to the pigs.

The back door opened, and that was the first time I really saw Peeta Mellark. He was carrying two large golden loaves of bread. I was hugging my knees, and my eyes were blurry from tears, but I could still see him walk towards me. I did not know why.

When he was near, I looked up to him, and that was the first time I saw his blue eyes. His cheek was red, from the slap his mother had given him. He crouched next to me, and gave me a small, sad smile.

"I know it's not a lot, but I hope it's enough," he said, and then, he carefully put the loaves (which were only just a bit black in some places, not as bad as Mrs Mellark had said) between my arms, so that they did not fall to the muddy ground.

I was so surprised by his generosity, that I was unable to thank him before he left. I knew then what had happened. He had thrown the bread into the fire deliberately. He had risked being beaten by his mother. And all of that, just because he wanted to give me that bread.

That was the first part of how Peeta Mellark, with his kind soul and his blue eyes, saved my life and that of my family. Those two loaves of bread were the first solid thing Mom, Prim and I had eaten in days, and it was all thanks to him. And every time I see a bread loaf, I remember how his reddened cheek showed what he had risked for me.

The next day, at school, I tried to speak with him. I wanted to thank him for what he had done. But I was unable to do it. I felt so self-conscious that I could not even approach him. But then, he looked at me. His blue eyes looked into mine, and I could not look away until a few moments later, embarrassed. That was when I saw a dandelion. The first of the year. That made me think of the time I spent with my father in the woods, and I realized how I could provide for my family. I picked the dandelion, blew on it, and I looked again at Peeta. I thanked him in my mind. He only smiled, and I knew what he was trying to say. _You are welcome. I did it for you. And I would do it again._

That was how Peeta saved me a second time. That is why, when I think of Peeta, I also think of dandelions. They are hope. The hope that things can get better.

As I became older, Peeta would often feature in my dreams. In some of them, we are together, near a wheat field, and the wind is blowing on the dandelions. He is lying on the ground, my head is on his shoulder and his arm is around me. We do not speak, but we just need to look at each other to tell each other everything we want to know. At least, that is what happens in those dreams.

In other dreams, which became more common as I grew older, I only know he is there with me, but details are confusing. I only know that I wake from them panting and with a strange need to... touch myself. The thing I am glad about those dreams is that I do not wake Prim up, because it would be embarrassing to attempt to explain to her that I had a sexual dream about being with Peeta. Just another thing I never speak about, unlike others, such as Madge, who confessed me that she had dreamed about being with Gale.

I have sworn that I would never marry, nor have children. I do not want to go through what Mom did when Dad died, and I do not want to subject my children to the hell of the Reaping and the Hunger Games. But the few times I am able to sit and just stop thinking, I daydream of a house, of a little blond boy with gray eyes and a dark-haired girl with blue eyes, of Peeta surrounding me with his arms and kissing me. But that is just a daydream. I cannot think about it becoming real. I intend to go on with my life as I swore to. Those dreams will be kept for when I need to escape into my mind.

And then, there is one big secret. One that I have shared with no one. Neither Gale, with whom I share almost everything (my dreams with Peeta, being, of course, not part of it), nor Prim, know. Mom would have known, but I am not sure if she stopped remembering that after the shock of Dad's death. Only Dad knew, and that was because he was the one who told me.

It is something I cannot talk about. Something that is far more riskier than the fact that I illegally hunt out of District 12 on a daily basis, and yet it has been a life-saver in so many occasions.

Dad told me the secret when I was eight. It was a Sunday, the only day of the week he did not have to go down into the mines. We were out in the forest, and I had climbed to a tree. I did not know it, but one of the branches was quite rotten, even if it did not show in the outside. It was not too high, but high enough to be a problem if it broke. Which happened a few seconds after I stepped on it.

I fell. I was scared. And, suddenly, while in fell, I was floating like a leaf.

Dad caught me in the air, and he was surprised at what he had seen. I feared for a second he would be angry, but then he sat down on a trunk and sat me in his lap, and told me a story.

Before the Rebellion, before the Dark Days, things were a lot different. There were many more people around than there are now. People were free, and few lacked from anything.

Among those people, there were some that could do some things. Extraordinary things. Like making things float, turn invisible or heal someone waving their hands, or just by thinking. They were called sorcerers. They were less than the people that could not do it, barely one in every thousand, but they were still part of the world. Only a few non-sorcerers knew about their existence, but they were still part of society.

And, just like the others, they fought and died in the nuclear wars before the Dark Days. The survivors spread through the Districts, which were among the few places that had survived the war. Many of them would join the Rebellion, to fight against the Capitol's tyranny, and died as well. Since then, they were so few that they had pretty much become isolated. They had become part of the people, and lost sight of each other. So they had turned to each person teaching those of their children that could be sorcerers or sorceresses.

Dad was one. His mother, Grandma Ashpet, had taught him everything he knew, which she had learned from her father. We were part of a line of people that had descended from some important sorcerer family from many years ago, but their name had been lost in time. And now, it turned out that I could, too, do the same extraordinary things.

They became useful. While I know how to hunt, how to walk in silence, how to gut an animal without using my special abilities, I use them for many things. Dad taught me the steps of how to control my abilities, and how to make them do what I need.

One thing I learned really fast was how to mask my scent. Mighty useful when I was going out hunting, because a change of wind would make any animal run away before I was able to kill it. Heating myself was great when it was winter, both when I am hunting and when I am sleeping. Making myself noiseless was another thing I practiced a lot. When I was hunting without Gale, I also tried to become invisible, but the most I managed was to camouflage myself. I could also cut down tree logs or reach things far easier than if I did not have my abilities. And a week before my fifteenth birthday I found a way to increase the size of the food rations we ate, something that I could also use to increase the number of berries I managed to collect. I had to be careful, lest I get caught, but there were no problems at all.

And that is my life in summary.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am sixteen years old. I am five feet seven. I weigh one hundred and twenty-two pounds. My hair is long and black. My eyes are gray. I have olive skin. I live in District Twelve. And I am a sorceress.

I can do magic.

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

My name is Peeta Mellark. I am sixteen years old. I am five feet ten. I weigh one hundred and forty-five pounds. My hair is short and blond. My eyes are blue. My skin is fair. I live with my parents and my older brothers in District Twelve, in the Merchant section, away from the coal miners. I work at my family's bakery. I bake, I paint, I trade.

I have been doing this since I was five. Dad's bakery is one of the few in the entire district, so he is always busy, and he needs the whole family to work there. My mother hates it, though. And she hates me. I have never known why, but she does. Any mistake I make, it does not matter how little, is rewarded with a slap, a rolling pin hit or even a beating.

Dad, however, is so nice that it balances things out. He is the one that has taught me everything I know about the trade. And also about other things. Important things. If it were not for him, I would have not found what I like doing.

I bake. I like working with flour, water and yeast. I have to wake up early every day, but it is worth it, if only to see how the loaves of bread grow while they are in the oven. It was hard to train and practice, but now I can bake pretty much anything Dad sells.

I paint. I normally decorate cakes and cookies. Even if my mother does not like to admit it, I am the best in my family at decorating. However, I prefer to use it to draw and paint on paper. Sometimes, I get some colors, but I mostly use drawing coal. I draw portraits of most of my family, mostly from memory, or landscapes, but my favorite are the portraits I make of... well, someone.

I trade. My father puts me many times on the counter to sell. He says that I am the one that can sell most things, and easier, than the rest of the family. That my personality is the most genial. I do not know about that – Rye is certainly more outgoing than me, at least – but I still do it. I like to talk with the customers. And, sometimes, they will buy some extra cookies or buns without me even mentioning them. But, to be honest, I prefer the trade with the ones that barter nearly every day with us.

I am quite popular at school, because the girls say I am handsome, and the boys are impressed with my being part of the wrestling team. However, there is only one person I feel companionship with, and that is Delly Cartwright. We have been friends since we were little, and she is like a little sister to me. In fact, if anyone asks her, she will say I am her older brother in everything but blood. Her parents own the shoe shop, and they are good friends with mine. At least, with Dad.

But then, there is someone else. Katniss Everdeen. The girl I love. She is my age. Her black hair, olive skin and gray eyes point her status as a Seam girl. She hunts, and trades a lot with us. Dad loves how squirrel meat tastes, and so do I, so he makes sure to buy a few when she and her friend Gale Hawthorne come around. I do not know whether they are together or not, as in boyfriend and girlfriend, but they are quite friendly. Makes me jealous. I never say anything about it.

But I know there is more to Katniss Everdeen than just that.

We have been in the same class since we were five. However, I have never gathered the courage to go to her and talk. Until five years ago. Now, when we meet in the school's corridors, and especially at the bakery when she comes to sell, we sit and we look at each other. We hardly speak: it is unnecessary. Instead, we just look at each other. Just one look into those mesmerizing gray eyes of hers tell me more than enough about her. I cannot avoid smiling at her, and she always looks away, blushing. I do not know what that means, but I can hope.

And I always know when she is near. As if I can smell her, but without the smell. It just... happens. No matter the place or the time, I know it. I know whether she will be in the classroom when I open the door or if I will have to wait to see her again. I know the exact place in which she is sitting in the canteen before I open the door. I know the moment she will knock on the backdoor to the bakery.

It was confusing at first, but I soon realized that it was a blessing. Because her mere presence always lifts my spirits.

I have twice fallen in love with her.

The first was when I was five. Before I even knew what love truly was. It was my first school day. My father had brought me there, and then he pointed me to a little girl with two black braids and olive skin, dressed in a red plaid dress

"See that little girl?" he said. "I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner."

"A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?" I asked. In my five-year-old mind, it seemed normal that someone would prefer Dad to someone else. Particularly, considering my mother, who even then mistreated me and my brothers.

"Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen."

I did not understand it... until a few moments later. One of the teachers asked if someone knew the Valley Song. The little girl with the two black braids and olive skin raised her hand, and stood in front of everyone.

When she sang, the birds stopped to listen.

And I knew I was a goner. I knew Katniss Everdeen would forever be the only girl I would love.

The second time was when I was eleven.

I was working in the bakery when some noise began to be heard from the backyard. My mother looked out of the window and she shouted at whoever was outside to stay away from our house. I looked outside, and I saw her, the girl I was in love with, shivering and moving towards the apple tree we have in there.

Seeing her look so fragile, so... _broken_, when I knew she was strong, broke me. It caused me physical pain, knowing that Katniss Everdeen was so hungry that she was going through trashcans to find something to eat.

That was when I decided to 'trip' and throw two loaves of bread into the fire. I got them out before they got too burned, and I braced myself for what I knew was about to come.

The slap my mother gave me nearly threw me to the ground, but I managed to stand on my feet. I did not pay much attention to what she said, until she ordered me to throw the bread to the pigs, before moving to the front to attend to a customer. This was my chance to help Katniss, to save her, even.

I moved outside, and I saw Katniss still under the apple tree, completely defeated. I nearly cried, because even so young I could see that she was near death. However, I did not, because I had in my hands the thing that could prevent that. I approached her, and knelt next to her. I smiled at Katniss, the smile a bit tainted by the sadness I felt at how she was. I could even see unshod tears in her eyes, but I hoped I would be able to restore the smile in her face.

"I know it's not a lot, but I hope it's enough," I told her, and then, I put the bread between her arms, making sure it would not fall to the muddy ground.

Her look of amazement at what I had done, as if no one had ever been this generous with her, was all the reward I needed, far more than enough to compensate the pain in my face. And when I see an apple, I see her scrawny form, her tearful eyes, and I remember that she was, even then, the most beautiful girl I had ever met.

The next day, I knew the moment she looked at me. I knew she was there, but that she did not feel capable of approaching me. I looked at her, and she stood there for a few seconds, only to look away shyly. Then, she crouched and picked something from the ground. A dandelion. The first of the year. She blew on it, and as the seeds flew away in the wind, she looked at me, and I knew what she wanted to say. _Thank you so much. You saved my life._ I just smiled at her, telling her that I would do it again at any moment.

That was the second time I fell in love with Katniss. And when I see dandelions, I think of her, of her hopeful eyes. The hope that things can get better.

She has always appeared in my dreams many times, but as I became older and knew more of the world, the dreams changed. My favorite dreams are those in which we are next to a wheat field, with the wind softly blowing on the dandelions. I am lying on the ground, looking at the sky, and she is in my arms. We look at each other, and I see in her what she wants to tell me. That she is happy. That she wants for nothing.

Then, there is the dreams that are faint, but that I know she is in there with me. When I have those dreams, I wake up in need to go to the bathroom to either relief myself of the effect she has in me, or clean myself. At least, I have my own room, so I do not have to stand Rye's jokes over what happens while I am asleep. One thing I always keep to myself, which I do not share even with Delly, even though she knows I love Katniss, because that is the kind of thing one does not share.

Thinking about what might happen in my future is difficult. I know not who will be getting the bakery, but I suspect that Dad is planning for me to get it. Marko and Rye, while they like the bakery, they are not interested in working there forever. I do not know if Katniss would ever accept the idea, but I can imagine her, heavily pregnant, lying on a bed while I kiss her, or looking outside the window at two children, a little blond boy with gray eyes and a dark-haired girl with blue eyes. It is but a pipe dream, though. I know not if she even thinks of me in any way other than gratefulness.

Besides, there is the other secret. One that I have shared with no one. Neither Delly (who knows that I like Katniss, and in fact she adores Katniss and would love to see us together), nor my brothers, nor my mother know of it. Only Dad knows, and that is because he is the one that told me.

It is something I cannot talk about. Something that has helped me more times than I can count on my hands and feet.

Dad told me the secret when I was eight. It was a Sunday, the only day of the week the bakery closes after noon. We were at home, and my mother was angry for some reason I do not know. She decided to take it out on me. She slapped me so hard that I fell down the stairs. I broke my arm and fainted from the pain.

When I woke up, it was to Dad. He looked both worried and relieved at the same time. Somehow. Then, I looked at my arm, and it was perfectly healthy. I did not know how that happened, because my last memory before fainting was the pain in my arm.

My father told me a story.

Before the Rebellion, before the Dark Days, things were a lot different. There were many more people around than there are now. People were free, and few lacked from anything.

Among those people, there were some that could do some things. Extraordinary things. Like making things float, turn invisible or heal someone waving their hands, or just by thinking. They were called sorcerers. They were less than the people that could not do it, barely one in every thousand, but they were still part of the world. Only a few non-sorcerers knew about their existence, but they were still part of society.

And, just like the others, they fought and died in the nuclear wars before the Dark Days. The survivors spread through the Districts, which were among the few places that had survived the war. Many of them would join the Rebellion, to fight against the Capitol's tyranny, and died as well. Since then, they were so few that they had pretty much become isolated. They had become part of the people, and lost sight of each other. So they had turned to each person teaching those of their children that could be sorcerers or sorceresses.

Dad is one. He learned what he knew from his father, who had learned from his mother. We were part of a line of people that had descended from some important sorcerer family from many years ago, but their name had been lost in time. And now, it turned out that I could, too, do the same extraordinary things.

They became useful. While I know how to do many things without using these new abilities, sometimes they are a great help in anything I attempt to do. Dad taught me the steps of how to control my abilities, and how to make them do what I need.

One of the first things I learned was to change something's weight. Every day, I was expected to lift large, fifty-pound (or heavier) flour bags. I could have used my abilities to make them light as feathers while I carried them, but instead I chose to use it as a way to become fit, making the bags weigh from almost nothing to now, when I can pick a hundred-pound bag, make it weigh a half again and carry it without a problem. Cooling myself is great, especially when it is summer and I am working at the bakery ovens. I also learned to heal myself, which was especially good for when I got hurt in wrestling practice or when my mother decided I had to learn a lesson. Covering my nose to stop smelling awful things was quite good, too. And six months into my fourteenth year, I started to use them to make bread last longer without going stale, which usually meant that we were now able to eat fresher bread at home – my mother decided years ago that we had to eat most of the stale things instead of anything fresh - and, as a welcome addition, now Katniss could enjoy the bread we gave her for far longer. I had to be careful, lest I get caught, but there were no problems at all.

And that is my life in summary.

My name is Peeta Mellark. I am sixteen years old. I am five feet ten. I weigh one hundred and forty-five pounds. My hair is short and blond. My eyes are blue. My skin is fair. I live in District Twelve. And I am a sorcerer.

I can do magic.

**A/N: Well, this is the prologue, which I hope you find interesting. I'd love to know your opinion through reviews, of course.**

**When I read The Hunger Games, it was because my sister recommended them to me, and I was a bit skeptical, but soon I found myself hooked to Suzanne Collins' universe, and damn, it made me feel for the characters and the shitty situations they were in. I just wished that Katniss would get her head out of her arse and realize that, maybe, she could let herself love Peeta (I've been on Peeta Team since almost the beginning), but, well, even if it takes her almost two books to do it, it was worth it.**

**Given that one of my other favorite universes is Harry Potter, I wondered how it would be if Katniss and Peeta had magic at their disposal. It would probably make their lives easier and more difficult, because on one side they could avoid some problems but, on the other side, they would be unable to use their powers willy-nilly (as I point out in Katniss' attempts to become invisible). The reason I picked both of their fathers to be the ones to tell them about magic is because, for both of them, their fathers are/were the one parent they felt most related to. Can you imagine Peeta's mother actually telling Peeta something that would actually help him? There will be other people that have magical abilities in the story. One or two of them will be surprising, and others will actually make sense.**

**Other possibility I thought about when writing this would be about Katniss doing what is called "Mental Mind Travel" or a "Peggy Sue" from some point at the end of _Mockingjay_ to the beginning of _The Hunger Games_. Showing how Katniss has to, once more, face the entire moment that changed everything, while this time actually loving Peeta, could mean that her entire future would change. However, I thought that this project was better. If any of you manages to write a good "Peggy Sue" with Katniss, tell me!**

**I have no problem in saying that a few THG fics are going to play a bit of influence in this story. One of them is "When The Moon Fell In Love With The Sun" by Mejhiren, which has fast become one of my favorites, because it is delectable, well built and, damn, makes me goosebump when I think about what happens in them. If you have not read it, it is highly recommended.**

**Those of you who are following Awakening (Once Upon A Time), fear not, chapter 8 is on the move. I am not going to abandon the story, it is far too good to do so. **


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, Harry Potter, Castle, Once Upon A Time, El Internado or anything else. I might own something in the future, when I write my own books, but for the moment nothing.**

**Chapter 1**

The sun wakes me. That, and my dream. I am surprised it was not a nightmare. Instead, it was a good dream. I was with Peeta, and we were sitting on a beach, with sand of the same color of his hair, and the sea as blue as his eyes. I was sitting on his lap, and he was hugging me from behind and kissing me softly in the neck. I feel my cheeks blushing as I think about it. My dreams with Peeta have become intense lately.

The reason why I am surprised I did not have a nightmare? The Reaping. The day of the year I hate the most. The day I know that might end up with either me or someone I love sent to death. Sure, there is supposed to be a chance for everyone that participates in the Hunger Games to win, but here in District Twelve, we think of it as a death sentence. No District Twelve has won since Haymitch Abernathy did in the Second Quarter Quell, and he only comes out of his house at the Victor's Village once a year ever since then. Today.

What the Capitol lovingly calls _Tributes_, we call _walking corpses_. Because that is what they are. People that are dead, but do not know it yet.

Today is worse than other years for me, though. Prim is twelve now, which means that she is now eligible for the Reaping. At least, her odds are minimal: one entry in thousands, because I forbid her from taking tesserae out. I have twenty entries in total. Five from each Reaping I have attended (including today's), the rest from the three tesserae I have taken out since I was twelve. Gale has forty-two entries, but at least this is his last Reaping.

I look down at my little sister, who is still sleeping – we sleep together to preserve heat – and a smile comes to my lips. She looks so innocent and happy. Even in the worst moments, she always looks chipper. I can say that it is thanks to me that she still maintains her happy disposition. I am too jaded and cynical from having to be the head of the household and taking care for my mother and Prim, but I know it is worth it every day I see Prim smile.

And here I am, hoping that she will never be Reaped. Because she is so nice that she would die in the first few minutes of the Games, or lose that innocence in the unlikely case she won.

Carefully getting out of bed without waking her up, I clean myself with cold water as best as I can and I put on my hunting clothes. It is early in the morning, and I want to catch some food for today, both for us and for trading. I will be able to make a small feast to celebrate that we have survived another Reaping.

I do not want to think of what might happen if we cannot celebrate surviving a Reaping.

My sister's cat, Buttercup, hisses at me as I pass near it, and I just decide to ignore it. We have never been close, in fact we hate each other. It all stems from the moment I tried to drown it in a bucket. It was so ill that I thought it would never survive, but Prim managed to convince me to give it a chance to live, and she managed to heal it. I admit that it is useful, because he kills any rats and other vermin that may happen to be around, but apart from that there is no love between us.

I take my foraging bag and I leave my house, not surprised to see the streets are almost completely empty. Any other day, this place is full to the brim with men and women walking to the coal mines, ready to extract the mineral for a meager salary. However, today the mines are closed, and the Reaping will not take place until two in the afternoon, so many just sleep in, content to bask on those few extra hours of calm before any of them lose their child forever.

Our house is at the edge of the Seam, which is good, because this way I only have to pass a few gates to reach the Meadow, a plain where only a few weeds grow. Crossing the Meadow means reaching the large chain-link fence that surrounds the entire District Twelve, topped with barbed wire loops. It is supposed to be electrified the entire day, as a deterrent both towards the dangers outside, like cougars or bears, and to keep the people inside and prevent them from escaping.

Fortunately for us, theory and practice do not always coincide, and electricity is only on for a couple of hours every day. The bad part is that it forces us to illuminate our houses with candles when it is off, but it also means that I can get through it without a problem. I first have to check whether it is on, because if it is, it means that I am unlucky for the moment, and will have to try later.

As soon as I reach the fence, I pay attention and listen, but there is little noise beyond that of the birds outside and the wind blowing. That means that the fence is off right now. I find the hole in the fence that has been here for as long as I remember, and make my way through.

I feel right at home here in the woods. I have been here so many times that I could find my way around blindfolded if I wanted to. Everything that I have required to support myself and my family has come from here, from this forest, either directly or by trading.

Picking my bow and arrows from their hiding place, I begin to move into the forest. I have already done my magic to mask my scent, as well as a little trick to listen better. Sometimes, the animals I hunt are so silent that it requires extra attention to find them. Since Gale is going to be coming soon, I do not want to try again the camouflage trick.

I listen something rustle to my left. It is small. I slowly turn my head, and see it is a rabbit. Rabbits sell quite well as a norm, because their soft skin is very good for making things like caps and gloves and their meat is tasty. As it is spring right now, they are even better, because they have already accumulated fat from eating.

I carefully ready my bow, nocking her bow with an arrow and pointing towards the animal. For a few seconds, both of us stand in our place, looking at each other. The rabbit's nose and whiskers twitch and I hold my breath, making sure that the arrow will fly straight.

I let go, and before the rabbit can move, the arrow penetrates its head through its right eye.

I smile, and move to get the rabbit and put it inside my bag.

"Morning, Catnip," someone says next to me as I pick my trophy up. I roll my eyes.

"Good morning, Gale," I reply to my best friend, slightly exasperated. He likes to call me 'Catnip' ever since we met: when he asked me my name, I was so nervous that I said it very low, and he misunderstood me. Trying to get him to stop using it was useless, so I decided to let him call me that. And, besides, I am already used to it.

"So, already making use of your free time?" he asks me with a grin, his bow ready as well.

"Like you are."

"Well, at least it seems that you are not losing much time. One rabbit in, what, a quarter an hour?"

"Ten minutes, actually."

"Not bad, Catnip."

I stick my tongue at him. I may be sixteen, but I still can find ways to behave like a little kid. "How's Rory?" I ask him, knowing that he, being the same age as Prim, is going to be in this year's Reaping for the first time. I know that he had to take out tesserae, because the food shortage affected the Hawthornes a lot.

"Worried. He has six entries this year, and he knows that he might have to take more tesserae next year."

"Well, at least he is not like both of us. Between my twenty and your forty-two, that would be more than enough to compensate."

"I hope so," he replies.

"'May the odds be _ever_ in your favor,'" I say in the snotty accent of the Capitol, making Gale chuckle. "So, should we continue with our hunting? And maybe we should try to find berries to sell," I ask him before we become too sad at the possibility that one of our siblings may not return at all.

"Sure."

In three hours, we manage to kill four more rabbits, we get three more from Gale's snares, a few birds and a big groosling. We also get some nuts from the trees, and pine bark as well. On our way back, we find a bush with berries of which we eat a few before picking many more in a bag to sell, and to my delight, several wild strawberries. Both of us eat one, and the rest goes into a second, big bag.

Unfortunately, by the time we have finished collecting all the strawberries it is time to go back. There are many things we have to do. We have to do the rounds to sell everything we carry, clean up and get ready for the Reaping. Attending the Reaping is obligatory for everyone: you can only stay at home if you are so ill that you might be about to die.

Our first stop is home. We drop the groosling, half the nuts and a few berries at his house. Tonight, after the Reaping takes place, we will pluck it and make dinner for both of our families, to celebrate that Gale will never have to go through the Reaping again and that both Prim, Rory and me have survived for another year.

Then, we go to the Mayor's house. We know he will be busy with the preparations for the Reaping, so we are not surprised when we see Madge open the door.

"Gale, Katniss! Good morning!" she says.

"Morning, Madge," I reply with a smile.

"Morning," Gale says, somewhat gruffly.

I resist the temptation to roll my eyes. I find the situation a bit comical. Madge likes Gale a lot, and Gale is nice to her and all of that, since she is my friend and she is also a good client, but given his general distaste of every person of the Merchant class in the District, it does get compensated.

"So, I guess this is not a social visit," Madge asks.

"No. We found this, and we thought you might like it." I show her the bag of wild strawberries, and she smiles.

"Thank you so much," Madge says, and she hugs Gale. "You are great, both of you. I'll go for the money."

She saunters inside the house, and I look at Gale.

"Why does she hug only me?" he asks aloud.

"I think that there is something interesting going on there, Hawthorne," I tell him, grinning.

"Ha, ha, yeah, that's a good one, Everdeen. As if," he replies.

Poor Gale. So oblivious to what Madge feels. I wonder if I should tell him about it... no, no, no, it would not be nice to tell him how Madge would like to kiss him, and besides, that was something she told me in confidence. Better if she surprises him.

Talking about the devil, there she comes back.

"Nice dress," Gale comments, finally noticing what Madge is wearing.

"Thanks. I... if I get Reaped, I want to look nice."

"Doubt you'll get Reaped. You've never taken out any tesserae."

"I still have five entries in there. Big enough of a chance."

Gale is about to answer, but I drive my elbow into his side before he can say something hurtful.

"So, how much for the strawberries?" I say, hoping to forestall what might be a very bad conversation. Madge names her price, and Gale and I start to haggle with her for the bucket. In the end, we can agree on a price, and she hands us the money. She then hugs Gale again, thanks us again for the strawberries and returns inside.

Gale's dumbfounded look stays with him until we reach our next stop, the bakery's back door.

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

I am knee deep in making some bread and buns for tonight when my Katniss sense – as I like to call it – activates, and three seconds later, someone knocks on the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I hear Dad say. Wish I could be the one to open the door, but being busy means I cannot answer. Well, I can see her in two minutes, when I finish with this. And maybe I will be able to sneak her a few somethings. A couple of cookies for her and her family? Perhaps a bun?

"Good morning, Katniss, Gale," Dad says, and my spirits dampen a bit. It is not that I have anything against Gale Hawthorne, on a personal level, but I am jealous of his close relationship with Katniss. I would also love to be alone with her, so that I may have a chance to really speak with her. Of course, considering my total inability to confess my feelings in the last five years, it is a miracle that I am actually considering the possibility.

Tomorrow. I will tell Katniss Everdeen that I love her tomorrow. I will just have to hold hope that neither Katniss nor me will be reaped. And that she will not laugh in my face or something like that.

"Morning, Mr Mellark," Katniss replies. Just hearing her makes my heart beat faster. Does she know the effect she has on me? This constant wish to be next to her that I have to suppress because I do not know if she feels the same way? I have to breathe deeply and attempt not to think on who is just a few meters from me in order to finish what I am doing right now.

"I hope that you have been able to enjoy yourselves," Dad tells them. "Especially considering what this day is."

"Yeah. At least, this will be my last Reaping," Hawthorne replies.

"Then, I must wish you good luck. Nasty business." I can almost see Dad shaking his head. This year is Rye's last Reaping, too, which he is glad about. Unlike my mother, though, Dad will not be wholly glad for the next two years, until I get through my last Reaping and we can be happy that our family is, at last, free of that weight. "So, what have you brought me now? Hope there are a few squirrels in there."

"Of course, Mr Mellark. And we also brought a few rabbits and berries with us."

I hear some rustling, and Dad laughs. "Bless you two, kids. People are going to love the tarts we can make from these. You are getting a good price out of these, no doubt about it. Come inside, I am sure you want to sit for a bit before heading back again to sell your things."

_Thank you, Dad_, I think, half-sarcastically. On one side, I want to see Katniss, but, on the other side, I am not exactly wild on the idea of her seeing me covered in flour. Well, I doubt it matters. She has seen me with smudges of flour on my clothes already, so I doubt this is worse. At least, I am finished with the buns.

Dad chooses this moment to enter the part of the bakery where I am working, and smiles when he sees me.

"Good job, Peeta. Those buns look delicious."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Why don't you take a rest? I'll put these in the oven. Invite them to a cheese bun." There is little doubt that, when he says 'them', he actually means 'her'.

"Like this?" I ask, pointing out my current state.

"I doubt Katniss will care about it, son," Dad replies, winking at me.

I blush. Out of all my family, Dad is the only one that knows about my true feelings for Katniss. I have not told my brothers because they would probably try to tease Katniss and me – Rye the most – which would certainly blow my attempts to keep it secret, and my mother has an inherent hatred for all Seam people that I have never understood, so telling her I love a girl that is pure Seam stock is bound to make her ear-shatteringly angry with me.

"Dad," I mutter, and Dad laughs.

"Don't worry about these, Peeta. Just get the buns and eat one each. I doubt anyone will care about the buns to notice one or two going missing."

"Mother?" I say.

"She's outside, with her friends. She probably won't be back until an hour before the Reaping," Dad replies, and he moves into the store part to pick three buns, which he gives me before pushing me into the backroom, where Katniss and Hawthorne are waiting.

"Hey," I say, lamely, and I look at both of them. Hawthorne looks bored and tense, as if he is ready to get out of here as soon as Dad pays him. But Katniss is not.

_She has had a lot of fun running in the woods. She slept well, but with some agitation at some point. She is worried about the Reaping. She hopes that neither she nor her sister will be picked. She likes being here in the bakery, even if it reminds her of how near she was to death, perhaps because it also reminds her of how she was saved._

She looks away, and I can see a faint blush in her cheeks as she does so. It is almost a ritual, and I love the color that adorns her face when it takes place

"Mellark," Hawthorne says, in a neutral tone that hides some hostility.

"Hi, Peeta," Katniss says, more friendly than her partner.

"Hope you two are OK," I say, offering them what Dad has given me. "I brought you some cheese buns."

"These part of the pay?" Hawthorne asks.

"No. These are on the house. A thank you, if you will."

I hand one to Hawthorne, and then I look at Katniss, who smiles to me before picking the second bun from my hand. She bites into it, and I can see that she really likes the taste by the way her eyes close and her lips curve up.

"Tastes great," she says.

"Thank you," I answer.

"You did them?"

"Yeah. One of the things I do in here, in fact."

"Well, you are good."

"Thank you. Again."

She smiles at me, but then Hawthorne clears his throat, breaking the moment.

"So, what are you going to do now?" I ask, trying to get my bearings back.

"Same as always. Some trading, and then back home to get ready."

"Then, we'll see each other at the square?"

"Sure, why not?" Katniss replies, my heart soars, and I smile at her again.

"Very good," Dad says, entering the room again, and carrying a sack with him. "I think this should be more than enough to cover what you have brought me. And, if you come over here tomorrow, I will give you a berry pie."

"That's... more than generous, Mr Mellark," Hawthorne replies, a bit surprised as he checks the bag.

"I can hardly let the purveyors of my favorite dish go without properly compensating them, right?"

"Thank you, Mr Mellark," Katniss says. "Thank you for the bun, Peeta."

I can only nod before the two of them leave the bakery, probably going towards the Hob, to sell what remains of their hunt and forage. The Hob is the worst kept secret of all of District Twelve. Many Merchants would blast its existence in one breath and slyly trade with them on the next. Dad does not have the same problems with them, although all trade he makes with them is done in secret to avoid angering my mother.

When the door closes behind them, Dad turns around and smiles at me.

"How did it go?"

I shrug. If she had been alone, it would have been easier, but with Hawthorne there, it was impossible.

"Peeta. You should tell her, son. Before something else happens."

"I know. I want to, Dad. But... it's not easy."

"Life's too short, son. If you never tell her, then you'll always wonder what could have happened if you had spoken up."

"And she could reject me. Tell me she loves Hawthorne."

"At least, you would know that you took the chance. I did try. And, yes, it was painful to see her marry another man, but I think it was worth the attempt."

Silence settles for a moment.

"You really loved her. Didn't you, Dad?"

"I did."

"I'm telling her tomorrow."

"Good." Dad messes up with my hair. "I'm sure she likes you, too. Call it instinct. Now, let's go and finish up before closing and getting ready."

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

After a series of negotiations at the Hob, Gale and I go back home and see goodbye to each other for now. We have to get ready for one of the things we hate the most, but that we have to do nonetheless.

Fifteen minutes before midday, Mom, Prim and I are walking towards the Main Square, where the Reaping will take place. I am wearing a blue dress from Mom, one from her days as a Merchant girl, from before she married Dad and went to live to the Seam. I dislike wearing dresses, preferring a good set of shirt, pants and boots over anything else, but Mom insisted, and I chose to let her win this one time.

The great influx of people coming to the square from other parts of the District means it becomes a bit difficult to get through as we approach the square, but the adults let us through with just a few words when they see us.

We have to leave Mom behind when we reach the Square proper, because Prim and I must register. Prim has never done this, so I reassure her that it is easy. Just a little prick on the finger to test your blood and confirm you are attending the Reaping.

Just another way the Capitol likes to control our lives. Force everyone to see how they are losing their children and they cannot do a thing about it.

After being tested for our identity, we enter the part of the square that has been cordoned off to hold the children of Reaping age. Girls to the right, boys to the left. I have to let Prim go, because twelve year old children have to stand next to the podium, to better introduce them to the horror of this ceremony. I stand with the sixteen year old girls, next to Madge, who is wearing the same dress I saw her when Gale and I visited her. The only change is a golden pin currently attached to her dress collar. It looks like a bird of sorts.

From my vantage point, I can see Gale with the eighteen year old boys. He waves at me, and I reply. His brother Rory is up in front, with the boys of his age, and I am sure that Prim has already waved at him.

A gaze on the boys my age easily find my other objective.

Peeta Mellark. He is looking at me. His blue eyes are looking at me. I like them. They remind me of the sky, of the lake in the forest. But now, they hold a resolution that I did not see this morning, when Gale and I went to trade to the bakery.

And I have the feeling that this resolution has nothing to do with the threat of the Hunger Games hanging over our heads.

It seems that everyone is already here, because the square falls into silence. The Mayor, Madge's father, steps on the podium and begins the typical speech over the Dark Days, the Rebellion, the Hunger Games, why they happen, why the Capitol has to do all of this and all that tripe no one believes about participating in the Games being an honor. At most, the only honor the tributes have is that of giving the families of those who are not chosen another year with their children, staving off their deaths.

And this is the moment everyone dreads. Effie Trinket steps on the podium and walks to the microphone. Sitting right behind her is Haymitch Abernathy, already drinking from his flask of white liquor I know he buys at the Hob. By the way he is swaying around, I can guess that he is already drunk. I wonder how hard it is for him. For twenty-three years, he has been living only with the company of his alcohol, and he has been forced to train two kids every year just to see them die days later. If it were me, I might probably also go a bit mad.

Effie Trinket, with a garish pink dress and an ugly white wig that makes me wish for my bow and arrows and a fire to shoot it down, begins to speak on the microphone. Same drivel as the Mayor, about the honor that being here in District Twelve is for her. As if. Anyone with a brain can see that she hates this place, and would love to get out of here and stop being our District's escort. But, until someone from here wins, it is unlikely to happen.

"And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" Effie says, bringing her speech to an end. "Now, let's see who are the lucky boy and girl who will become District Twelve Tributes!" she says, cheerfully, ignoring the sullen looks she is getting from everyone in the square. "Girls first!" she says, moving for the bowl that contains all the girls' entries.

I start chanting on my head. _Not me, not me, not me, not me..._as Effie Trinket picks up one of the entries and moves to the microphone to read it.

And her next words prove to me that, not only are the odds _not_ in my favor, but that, if there is some kind of spirit of luck or something, it certainly hates me, or has a very bad sense of humor. Because the chosen entry is certainly not me.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

As soon as I hear those two words, I look towards Katniss, knowing what this is going to do to her. She loves her sister more than anything else in the world, and she is going to be crushed. It is always tough to see this happen, but personally knowing the Tribute, or a relative of them, makes it harder.

It is a minor thing, nothing when compared to this, but I find it hurtful when I realize that trying to tell Katniss about my feelings would not be a good thing. And then I am disgusted with myself for even thinking that is minimally important. I just hope that Gale will be there to support her.

When I look at her, I see her panicked face, her open eyes. And she is moving forward, trying to push everyone out of her way, her lips moving in silence. At first. Because then, she begins to speak up.

"No, no, no, no. Prim! Prim! Stop! STOP RIGHT NOW!" she shouts, pushing people out of the way in her attempt to reach her sister.

My heart breaks for her. The desperation in her voice is audible to everyone in the square. But Prim is now the Tribute for District Twelve. She tries to step between Prim and the podium, but there is nothing she can do...

"I VOLUNTEER! I VOLUNTEER AS A TRIBUTE!"

… except for that.

Volunteers are something that mostly happens in Districts One, Two and Four. They are called the "Career Tributes" because they train for participating in the Hunger Games since the moment they become eleven, even though it is technically illegal, and they actually consider participating in the Games an honor, instead of an horror, like everyone else. When in the arena, they will almost always join in a team, only to go after each other when everyone else is dead. There is a reason why those three Districts are the ones with the most Victors (District Twelve, with two winners in total, is the one with the least).

Out of those three Districts, though, volunteering is hardly done. If someone does get chosen, then all other children will feel glad that they were not. In District Twelve, no one has ever volunteered in seventy-two editions of the Hunger Games.

Until today, that is.

I see a crying Prim trying to hold onto her sister, only to be taken away by a crying Madge Undersee and Gale Hawthorne. Everyone is looking at the image that is now present before them, amazed and terrorized in equal parts. Many here know Katniss, and many know how much she dotes on her sister, but taking it so far so as to volunteer herself for the Games... it is nothing short of heroic.

"What is your name, dear?" Effie asks, oblivious to the dramatic situation that has just taken place.

"Katniss Everdeen," she replies.

"Oh, my. I bet my buttons that that was your sister. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"It was very nice of you to do this for your sister. One applause for Katniss Everdeen, the girl tribute for District Twelve!" Effie exclaims.

No one applauds. No one ever applauds in here when someone gets Reaped. It is one of the few ways we can express some kind of rebellion against the Capitol.

But then, I see Madge putting her left hand to her mouth, and slowly everyone else does the same. I imitate them, kissing my left hand's three middle fingers. The whole square does it. And then we hold our fingers out towards Katniss.

It is an old gesture. Normally, it is only seen at funerals. It means thanks. It means admiration. It means goodbye to a person you love. And Katniss is receiving this treatment from all of District Twelve. Because, with this gesture, she has become a hero to us all.

I do it because I admire her. Because I think she is the most magnificent girl I know. Because it might be the only way I can tell her I love her. I try to fight my tears as I feel how she is already slipping away from here.

I look at her. She is looking at her sister, but then she looks at me, straight into her eyes. I can see she is scared, but determined to not show it. That she would prefer to be anywhere else but over that podium. I wish I could take her from there, to carry her away and make sure she will never have to go

"I like her. She's got... spunk!" Haymitch, who has stood up from his chair, drunkenly shouts, to everyone's surprise. The silence had been almost overwhelming, and his interruption shocks many. "More than you. Than any of you!" he says, pointing out to no one in particular – although I think he is looking at the camera – as he waves his other arm. He becomes interrupted when he trips and falls from the podium.

I think that it is too much of a coincidence that he has chosen to interrupt things just now. His shouting and flailing makes everybody look away from Katniss. Was he doing this to give her a few seconds to compose herself? Or to distract the Capitol cameras from the salute? Either way, it does help. I see Katniss close her eyes for a few seconds and breathe, and when her eyes open up, she is the huntress that fears nothing in the world.

Once Haymitch has been taken away in a stretcher to make sure he has not broken anything and the commotion he has caused dies down, Effie recovers her cheerful disposition.

"Let's see who is the one boy that will accompany Miss Everdeen!"

As Effie moves for the boys' bowl, I keep looking at Katniss. I think about how much I wish I could be up there to hug her, to take her away and make sure she does not have to go through the Games...

"Peeta Mellark!"

If there is some kind of spirit that chooses the entries, it certainly has a very _bad_ sense of humor.

As I walk towards the podium, I realize what this means. I am going to die in the Hunger Games, at the age of sixteen, at the hands of another teenager.

As I move up the stairs, I look at Katniss, and I see that her earlier determination has mellowed a bit. I wonder if that is good, but I soon push that thought away.

As I shake hands with Katniss, I cannot avoid running my thumb over the back of her hand. I am sure I am imagining it, but there is a slight blush in her face, but she is still looking at me instead of away.

And, as Effie Trinket presents us both as the Tributes of District Twelve, I realize that, even if I die, I still can do something for Katniss.

Anything to make sure Katniss survives. Until the moment I die, I will work to ensure that Katniss Everdeen becomes the Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games.

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

They take us to the Justice Building, surrounded by Peacekeepers. They want to make sure that we do not try to escape our "fate". Of course, I am not stupid enough to try it, especially after the stunt I pulled. If I did and was successful, then Prim would again be the one on the way towards the Capitol. And I cannot do that to my sister.

The last I see of Peeta before we are put in separate rooms is him looking at me. He is sad, yet determined. Is he already preparing himself for what lies ahead? For the bloodbath that will ensue as soon as we enter the arena?

_For killing me?_

Just thinking about that hurts me. I do not know why. I wish I could read his mind, to know what thoughts are running through there.

The room I am in is sparsely decorated. Quite functional, but with high quality furniture. I snort. A gilded cage for the soon-to-be corpses.

The door opens, and I am tackled by Prim, who is crying a river. I pick her up, holding on my tears. I need to be strong. At least, until I can be sure I will not be interrupted. I need to be strong for my little sister, because I know that she is going to need to feel that I have some hope of actually winning.

Mom stays a step back, but then sniffs and holds us both in a tight embrace.

It has been a lot of time since Mom last hugged me of her own volition. Just the same morning of the day Dad died in the explosion. She had helped me and Prim put on our coats, hugged and kissed us both, and sent us on our way to school with a smile. The last we have ever seen of her.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss," I hear Mom say between sobs. I try not to be angry with her. I am, actually, but I try not to show it. It will not be worth the effort to show how angry I am with Mom. For abandoning Prim and me when we needed her the most, and for forcing me to become the head of the household and work to ensure that none of us went hungry.

When we finally calm down, I look straight at Mom. "Mom, now I need you to be strong. You can't just fade away like you did when Dad died. Prim is going to need you now more than ever. You have to get back on your feet and become the apothecary again. Can you do that?"

Mom is struggling, but she knows I am right. "I can."

"Good. Now, Gale and I had a deal. He will bring you meat and plants every Sunday. You can make a small patch for medicinal plants in the backyard. With that, and Lady's milk, you can survive. It will be tight, but you'll be able to do it. And Prim, I forbid you from taking out any tesserae. At all. Do you understand me?"

Prim, her eyes red and her nose sniffling, looks to me. "But, what if..."

"No, no what ifs, no buts, no maybes. You are to stay away from the Justice Building. Mom, make sure she does not do it, please."

"I will, Katniss."

"Katniss," Prim says. "You have to win, OK? You have to win and come back home."

I do not have the heart to tell her that I will probably die in the arena, hopefully from something that kills me as painlessly as possible, but if it is a Career then he will probably try to draw it out. I just hope that Mom or someone will cover Prim's eyes when that happens.

"I'll try to win, Prim," I say instead, and that is the best thing I can do.

Someone knocks on the door, and it opens. It is Darius, one of the Peacekeepers.

"Time's over."

This triggers more tears from Prim. It is going to be the last time she sees me, unless I achieve the almost impossible and win. I hug her, kiss her two or three times in the cheek, and then let her on the ground, trying to make her go before she is pulled away forcefully. Mom manages to pry Prim away from me, and soon they are leaving. The last time I will probably ever see them.

I sit down on a chair and try to rein on my emotions. I do not want anyone to know that I have been crying. If I have to, I will wait until I am in the train, where I am sure I will be able to find some place to close myself in and cry to my heart's content.

The door opens again, and I am not surprised to see it is Gale. He takes me into his embrace. Desperate embrace.

"Catnip, why did you do this?" he asks me.

"I couldn't let Prim go there! She would die way too soon!" I reply, angrily.

"I know. I wanted to make sure you didn't do it for some stupid reason."

Despite myself, I snort.

"Look, you have to get your hands on a knife and a bow."

"Knife, sure, but a bow? I doubt that the Gamemakers will put a bow in there."

"Then, make yourself one."

"Are you sure there will be any wood?"

"Given that the last time there was no wood nearly all the Tributes died of hypothermia, I doubt they will risk it."

I remember that one. It was one of the first Hunger Games I remember seeing. The Tributes had been dropped in a land covered with snow and no trees at all. The Victor was a Career that managed to steal the clothes from the two Tributes he killed, staying warm for long enough to see how about three quarters of the others died because of the weather. He actually lost several fingers and toes because of frostbite. The Gamemakers thought it was boring, though, because from that moment on there would always be some trees.

"It will be a weak bow."

"Better that than no bow."

He is right. We stay hugging for a few more moments.

"I'll hold up to my end of the deal, Katniss. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks. At least, I can be glad that I'll have my big brother taking care of my family," I try to joke, something hard when I know what is going to happen to me.

The strange sound that comes out of Gale is certainly not a laugh.

"Is... is that how you think of me?"

OK, that is really not the comment I expected.

"Well... yes." I look up, and I see that Gale is looking at me in a really weird way.

"Katniss... I..."

Darius opens the door. "Sorry, Hawthorne, time's over."

"Damn it, Darius!" Gale shouts, angry.

"I'm sorry, but you have spent here more than enough time to tell her whatever you wanted to. Up you go, before I have to get you out on my own."

Gale glares at the Peacekeeper, but he seems unaffected by it, so he turns to me.

"Katniss, please, come back. Win those damned Games and come back here."

"... Right," I answer, wondering what is going on with him. It looked like he was going to tell me something important, and then just gives me a comment that certainly does not deserve such anticipation. Gale leaves the room then, pushing Darius out of the way.

Before Darius closes the door, someone else manages to enter.

"Katniss!" Madge says, passing through the door and hugging me. I return the hug my only female friend is giving me. "I thought I wouldn't get to say something before you left."

"I'm glad you are here, you know. I wanted to ask you something. Try to give Gale a chance, please. I know you like him, and I am sure he will realize soon that you are great for him."

She smiles a bit, and I get the feeling that she knows something that she does not want to share.

"I would love to do it. I just wish he would actually notice me."

"He does notice you. He's a boy, so that's probably why he doesn't show it."

Madge snorts. "I think there's other reasons for that, but thank you." She puts her hand in her pocket. "I came here... well, you know how they let you wear one thing from your District in the arena, to remind you of home? I would like it to be this." She takes her hand out, and I see the pin she was wearing before, during the Reaping. Now that it is near, I can see what it is.

A small golden bird, attached to a ring by its wing tips, carrying an arrow in its beak. A mockingjay. A mix of a jabberjay muttation and a mocking bird. Dad loved mockingjays, because they would always reply to him whenever he sung.

"It was my aunt's. Maysilee Donner. She was one of the tributes in the Quarter Quell, with Haymitch Abernathy. She placed fifth then."

"Madge, this... this is a lot." And it is. It looks like it is made of pure gold. Just by selling it, I am sure it could keep a family fed with bread for several months.

"I know what you are thinking, Katniss. It is unfair that I have something that could help so many people. Thing is, I doubt anyone would accept this as a payment, not even in the bakery. And, well... from what I know of my aunt, I'm sure that she would have loved to see you carry it. Here, let me," she says, and puts the pin on the neck of my dress. "There. You are ready to show the Capitol you are Victor material."

"Thank you." I do not tell her that I think I will not be close to that. Instead, I hug her.

"Come back, OK? Wish you and Peeta could make it, though."

I suddenly wonder how Peeta is. I have been so overwhelmed by this situation that I have paid no thought to him. I know he is a fellow tribute, and as such a potential enemy... but he is also the boy that saved me twice. And I owe him for that.

"Yeah," I reply, softly. Madge has to leave, though, and soon I am alone again, waiting for the Peacekeepers to take me to the train.

However, the door opens again, and I find to my surprise Mr Mellark is the one crossing the door.

"Hello, Katniss," he says, gently. I can see his eyes are red. "I wish I could be meeting you again in better circumstances."

"So do I," I reply, thinking of my barter visits to the bakery's backroom. Mr Mellark smiles sadly, and shakes his head.

"I think we are not talking about the same thing, Katniss. Anyway, I wanted to tell you... whatever happens in the arena, whether you win or you lose... I'll keep an eye on your sister. I'll make sure she and your mother are well fed."

"Thank you," I whisper, shocked. Here I am, ready to go somewhere where I will have to fight his youngest son to death, and he comes to tell me that he is going to do what I will be unable to do anymore. I can see where Peeta gets his generosity from. The same generosity that saved my life years ago.

Mr Mellark steps forward, and hugs me. This is an even greater shock to me. I try to return the hug and keep my tears in. For years, the only man that has hugged me is Gale, but Mr Mellark's embrace reminds me of Dad, of how he would hug me every day, whether it be when he came from working in the evening or when it was Sunday morning and he brought me to the woods with him.

Before I break down, he stops the hug and kisses me on the top of the head. "Don't worry about anything, Katniss. You take care of yourself, and I'll do what I can to take care of your family."

I nearly point out that taking care of myself might involve his own son's death, but I shut up. He also gives me a small package.

"I had brought this for Peeta, but he thought that you might like it better."

I nod and sort of smile to him, which he answers with a smile of his own, and he then leaves, closing the door behind him.

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

I was visited by very few people while in the Justice Building.

First, it was my family. Dad, Marko, Rye and my mother. Dad hugged me and asked me to be as careful as possible, which is a bit ironic considering the situation I am in, and also subtly pointed out that I have many abilities at my disposal. Marko just tried to make me remember better times. Rye said that, considering my wrestling ability, I could just tackle the others into the ground.

Mother just said that she was glad District Twelve would finally have a winner. For a second, I actually believed she thought I had a chance. But her next words clearly showed what she thought.

_She's a survivor, that one._

I mean, Katniss is a Seam girl. It is not that I hold that against her, in fact I love everything about her, but... my mother irrationally hates all Seam people, and still thinks Katniss has more chances than me. Not that she is not right, but some support would have been nice.

Next came Delly Cartwright. I could easily see that she was devastated. I wish I could have reassured my sister in all but blood that I will not have to go to the Hunger Games, that I will come back from there, but it is impossible, so I settled for talking with her and calm her down. She gave me a leather and thread bracelet we had made when we were little children: when we did it, it was far too big for either of us to wear it, but now it surprisingly fit in my wrist. She asked me to use this as my District token, and after I told her I would do so, she kissed me in the cheek and said goodbye.

My last visitor was a bit of a surprise. Gale Hawthorne came in, really furious, and told me quite clearly that, if I either let Katniss be harmed or I played a role in her death, I should count on not living more than a day after I arrived to District Twelve as a Victor. He calmed down a bit when I told him that my plan was to ensure Katniss survived, but I am not sure that he actually believed me. Considering the look he gave me when he was saying that, I suspect that his reasons for wanting Katniss to return home are not entirely friend-like. I wonder if Katniss actually knows this, because, as far as I know, she has never given any inkling about knowing what Hawthorne feels for her.

After a few hours enclosed in the Justice Building, they finally let us out. We are taken to a car, where we are sitting with Effie and Haymitch, who looks unaffected by the fall he took during the Reaping. Effie talks non-stop about what we should be expecting to see when we arrive to the Capitol, but I pay little attention to her. I just look at Katniss, who seems equally uninterested in Effie's prattling, preferring to look out of the car's window as everything passed by.

When we are in the middle point of our travel to the train station, a small bump on the road shakes the car. Katniss stops looking outside, and chooses to look at me. I try not to blush at the fact that she has caught me staring at her, and she produces the first smile since we were Reaped. It is small, hardly noticeable, but it makes her face illuminate. I look down for a second at her hand, wishing I could grab it, but I do not know how well she would take it.

We reach the train station, and I see that there is a lot of people here that have come to watch us two go. Whether it is to say goodbye, or to wish us luck or our safe return, I do not know. Effie is the first to get out of the car, waving at everyone in the station as she comes into the train. Haymitch goes next, almost tumbling around because he is still drunk, but manages to get on the train without falling again and wave at the people.

Then, it is Katniss' and my turn. I get out first and wait for Katniss to come out of the car to close the door. We walk in step towards the train door, and we are met by Effie when we step inside.

"You two, stay there and wave until the door closes!" she says. I stop myself from fully entering the train, and do as Effie says. Katniss takes a second longer, but she does the same.

As we wave goodbye, looking at the people we have lived with for our whole lives, and who we – at least me – will probably never see again, my left hand seeks Katniss' right hand. It is something completely accidental, involuntary. But today has been the nearest I have been to the girl I love in years. Just shaking her hand before has left me wanting for more.

I want to hold her hand.

I want to hold her in my arms.

I want to kiss her until we both need to breath.

I want to worship her entire body.

I want to make love to her.

I want to have a toasting with her.

I want to have children with her.

I want to grow old next to her.

I want her to be my everything.

I want me to be her everything.

And now, I will not be able to have any of that.

Is it any wonder that I am trying to find just a little bit of solace?

My little finger seeks hers. A small gesture, to draw comfort from her presence. My finger finds hers, and carefully hooks up around it.

The feeling is more than enough to make my heart beat just a little faster. I am sure that, if I look down, I will see the sparks flying.

But it does not end in there.

As we begin to lose sight of our home, her finger slowly disentangles from mine. The loss only lasts a few seconds, though, because, as the door finally closes and the train begins to move, her fingers interlace between mine.

**A/N: Well, that's Chapter 1!**

**I hope that it was good enough for you guys, because you know I love it when my chapters are loved.**

**The entire story is going to be written from the point of view of both Katniss and Peeta, alternating between the two of them. I'll make it so that Katniss relates the first scene in every chapter and Peeta does the last one. **

**There are things in here that I am sure you are going to claim are showing the characters a bit OOC, and I cannot help but have the feeling that Peeta sounds a bit strange, but, if you want, you can put it down to the fact that Katniss has actually noticed him and they speak with each other (yeah, it's not a lot, but, well, better that than nothing) and the actual connection between them. **

**As you can see, events played out quite similarly to what happened in the book, but there are enough different elements to show how things have changed because of magic. You can also easily imagine what was Gale about to say when Darius interrupted them ( why he does not say it? He got uncomfortable with the idea of saying it in front of someone else). **

**And, now, something that will be interesting for you guys: a recommendation for a The Hunger Games fanfic. Since I am sure many of you already know the excellent "When the Moon Fell in Love with the Sun", I'll give you one that is probably not as well known: "Rebel" by HGRomance (Story ID: 8609804). Peeta is a rebellious boy that gets in trouble at every moment, while Katniss is an eighteen year old Amish girl. None of them is likely to change paths, but when Peeta is sent to help at the Everdeen's farm for the autumn harvest, things will change for both of them in ways neither would have imagined.**

**Finally, the answers to the reviewers:**

**DaynetheGamer: if/when I reach the Tracker Jacker part, there will be a bit of a magical twist, I assure you of that.**

**Nightwing 509: I am glad you liked it. I also hope that this chapter is also to your taste.**

**DeliciousBlood: glad that you have such a good opinion!**

**pumpkinking5: if you are a Harry Potter fan, then you can recognize this (magic suddenly acting in the moment a child needs it most) as "accidental magic". That's where I drew the idea of how Katniss and Peeta discover their magic from, actually. However, the similarities between HP magic and MDB magic more or less end here: in Harry Potter, a wizard/witch has to use a wand and a set of precise incantations and movements to do most magic (Animagus transformations and Disapparation being among the few exceptions), while in here, the sorcerers/sorceresses mold magic up to their needs, and it is through experimentation that they make new ideas (which both Katniss and Peeta have done already). Their parents would have learned about this sooner or later, as Katniss or Peeta would have been in such a situation where their accidental magic activated. And, well, there are more reasons for the connection Peeta and Katniss feel than just that. Also, I did not want to use wizard/witch to define magic users because I'd rather use it to define Peeta's mom.**

**Guest: first place, would it hurt so much to give a name? Second place, I am sorry for using the numbers given by the film to state Katniss' height and weight, but it was the best thing I could do. Maybe I could have shaved off a few inches from Katniss' height (3-4 inches), but, well, now it is going to stay there. I do hope that, in spite of this, you will still keep reading.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, Harry Potter, Castle, Once Upon A Time, El Internado or anything else. I might own something in the future, when I write my own books, but for the moment nothing.**

**Chapter 2**

I do not know why I have done this.

I do not know why I have taken Peeta's hand in mine.

But I know it feels... perfect.

The shake of his hand after the Reaping left me with the want of more. It was like in my dreams. The more innocent ones, at least. I know that, from the moment Effie Trinket spoke, he was my rival, but I cannot help but think about the possibility of him being a friend, or even something more.

When we were saying goodbye from the train, and he hooked his finger around my little one, I held my breath for a second. Unused as I was to this kind of touching, a stray thought had invaded my mind.

It was not enough. I needed more. I do not know why, I just... knew.

The feeling of his fingers between mine tells me it is perfect. As if his hand had been made just so that mine fits in.

I am assaulted by an image. Of Peeta's hands framing my face. Of his half-closed blue eyes, sparkling like the stars. Of his blond hair shining like the sun. Of his face as it approaches mine. Two seconds away from kissing me.

I breathe deeply to avoid blushing. The only thing about that image that bothers me is that it does not bother me, if that makes any sense.

I cannot resist the temptation of running my thumb over the back of his hand, to test whether it feels as great as those dreams of mine show. I hear Peeta suddenly breathing in, as if shocked by what I have done. And I am shocked to discover that my dreams have nothing on this. I am sure that, between Peeta and I, we could produce enough energy to power all of our District for a night.

"Children, there's no need to stay there anymore, we have already left District Twelve. Come with me, I'll show you to your rooms."

Part of me wants to shout at Effie for breaking this moment, but I recognize that we do need to move. This travel is going to last a day, approximately, so we should get settled, at least for tonight.

Effie hurriedly guides us along the train. Despite how much the detached part of my brain tells me to, the one I listen about most of the time, I do not want to let Peeta go. No matter what may happen in the nearby future, I _cannot_ let go of him, so I tug him slowly, and he is soon walking at the same rhythm as I do. I cannot say how I know, but I know that he is smiling. In spite of the situation, my own lips are also curving upwards into a smile, against my will.

She stops in front of a door. It is marked with a big **F**.

"Katniss, you will be sleeping in this room. You have two hours to yourself. You may use the facilities within to your content, and you can take any of the clothes in there as well. Just make sure to be ready by then, we are having supper then, and then you will be watching the rest of the Reaping."

I briefly look at Peeta. I am reluctant to let him go, but I know I have to do it.

_We can talk later, Katniss_, he seems to tell me with his smile, and I nod at him, giving him a tiny squeeze. It is... strange. Just a few minutes ago, I was terrified, because I was going towards my own death. And now, it is the idea of letting go of Peeta that I hate. But then, he runs his thumb over my knuckles, and I know I will be right.

"Thank you," I say, more to Peeta than to Effie, and enter the room, closing the door behind me.

I must say, this is an absolute... waste of space. This room is huge. Bigger than the main room in my house and the kitchen, put together. It has a couch in front of a television, a bed, an enormous wardrobe, a shelf with a few books, and a door to what I suspect may be a bathroom, given what Effie has said about 'using the facilities'.

If the room in the Justice Building was bad, this is worse. And I am sure that the rooms they will give us in the Capitol will be even more decadent. This is a bit of a torture, I guess. They are giving us a taste of what our lives would have been in the Capitol before sending us out into the arena and see with sadistic glee how we kill each other.

I try to push that part away from my mind. Somehow, the mere idea of having to either kill or even see how Peeta dies makes me ill. In twenty-four hours, he has passed from a sort-of-friend that I had a strange connection with to someone that has become just as important to me as Prim or Gale. As if the walls I had built around my heart were nothing but paper to him.

I blank my mind, before I start tearing up. I leave the bag Peeta's father gave me on a table, and enter the bathroom, where I am met with something I have only heard of before. A shower.

In the Seam, the only way to clean yourself is with a bath. Even a warm bath is really costly. Much coal is needed to heat enough water for one person, and that is even if the bathtub is small, like it happens at my house. Best I can get is a swim in the lake, and only when it is summer, the only time when it is actually bearable. I know that Merchants have small showers in their houses thanks to Madge.

But this shower is huge. Mom, Prim and I could fit in here, and there would still be space for Buttercup and Lady. There are many buttons in here, probably more than I would even care to make use of. Careful inspection shows that the first row of buttons is only for controlling the intensity of the water falling. The second allows control of temperature. The third, four and fifth are used to control the soaps used to clean your hair, your face and the rest of your body. I decide to ignore the rest of the buttons, as they will probably be equally stupid. Honestly, who needs so many things to clean yourself? Everyone I know would be happy with just one kind of soap.

Sighing, I undress myself, undo my braid and enter the shower. After some work trying to figure out the tiny letters in the buttons, I manage to pick my choices. Medium strength, medium hot water, lemon for my hair, pine for the face and body. Simple, and it helps me remember home. At least, it should.

As soon as I press the button I guess is used to turn these things on, I brace myself for the possibility of lots of water falling down on me, as if it were a waterfall, but I am surprised. Instead of a waterfall, it feels more like warm rain in the middle of summer. It is actually relaxing, in fact. I stay where I am, eyes closed, letting the warm water fall over me. When I feel something else falling on my hair beside water, I touch it. It is a bit honey-like in texture, but not as sticky. I then bring my hand to my nose and smell. It smells of lemon. I guess this must be the hair soap.

I spread the soap over my hair, trying to cover all of it as fast as possible before rinsing it. A bit of soap falls on my face, and I wash my face with it, before letting the rest of the soap fall all over the rest of my body to clean myself.

In my movements, I accidentally press one of the buttons with my elbow. I am suddenly assaulted from all sides by particularly strong water spouts. I hold back a scream while I blindly try to find the button to stop the attack. However, given that my eyes are still closed from doing my best to avoid the soap spuds from entering them, it is quite difficult. I realize this when the next button I press makes several solid objects come out and start to scrub my skin.

I kneel down, avoiding the objects and most of the spouts, and try to clear my eyes while I look for the way to turn this off. It takes some effort, but in the end I find a button that says 'OFF'. I reach it, the torture finally ends. Stupid thing. I hold onto my wish to kick it. I would rather not hurt my own foot. Still, I am clean, and I smell of pine and lemon, so I guess that it was not a complete failure.

I shake myself, getting rid of as much water as possible, and get out of the shower, looking for a towel to dry myself off. My search is unsuccessful, but it does not matter, because the next thing I know the walls start to blow warm air, strong, but not a lot, surrounding me. It only lasts a few seconds, and when it stops, I am completely dry.

Deciding not to think about the laziness of the people that made this, I pick a gown and return to the bedroom. I pick the first things I find – a black short-sleeved shirt and pants and shoes – and put them on, combined with my own undergarments. And right on time, because I can feel Peeta is about to knock on the door.

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

After the most _decadent_ shower I have ever taken – seriously, who decides to shower with _rose petals_? And here I thought that being able to have a hot shower was more than enough – and getting dressed with surprisingly fitting clothes – I pick a green shirt and black pants to go with my shoes – I leave my room, marked with a big **M**, and move towards the room assigned to Katniss.

I try not to think too much of what will happen when we arrive to the Capitol. It will not do me any good to get more nervous, especially knowing what is my destiny. I do, however, think of Katniss. Of how I tried to look at her, to tell her that I wanted to speak with her, and how she answered with a nod.

I soon find the door to the room assigned to Katniss, and knock on it.

"Katniss?" I ask softly. I can feel she is just a few meters away from the door, which means that either she must have showered already, or she has yet to do it. However, I am left wondering whether she intends to come out soon or just plans to close herself to the rest of the world. I know enough about her to know that she is quite likely to do that.

However, my fears are unfounded, because I hear her approach the door and it opens slowly, showing her lovely face.

"Hi," I say. We are both smiling. Her smile is a bit wavering, but it is still a smile, which I am glad for. I can see that she has shed her lovely blue dress, and that she is now wearing a black shirt. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," she replies, with a voice just above a whisper, and she opens the door fully, letting me in. I enter her room, looking at her. Her hair is undone, framing her beautiful face. I have to hold on my wish to be able to run my fingers along her long, black locks, and place them behind her ear, because it is really intense.

The faint scent of pine and lemon, her undone hair, her clothes, tell me that she has just showered. I try, somewhat unsuccessfully, not to think of her naked body as water falls over her.

"I see you had a shower," I tell her.

"How can you tell?" she asks.

"Your smell," I reply, touching my nose. "Lemon and pine, right?"

"Yeah. And I can see you had a struggle with your shower," she says, her smile becoming just a little bigger.

"How do you know?"

Her hand moves towards my hair. I hold my breath as her fingers brush my hair. Her gray eyes are silver under this light, and I swallow as her face approaches mine.

"I guess that you don't usually shower in rose petals," she says, her lips curving in a bit of a smirk as she produces the offending item and shakes it in front of me. I groan a bit, but it is worth it, because it makes Katniss smile.

My concentration lost, my imagination decides to provide me with an image. Katniss, naked, covered in rose petals, winking at me, her cheeks just with a slight rosy tinge that makes her look sexier, if that is possible.

"Peeta, are you OK? You are blushing," Katniss says, bringing me back to reality. Damn. She has noticed. I am thankful that she cannot read my mind, because I am sure she would not like me thinking of her that way.

"Yeah, well, sorry. You know, the roses..." I am particularly obtuse over what about the roses affects me so much, hoping she will think it is the fact I was showered by them. "Can we... sit down?"

"Sure." Her hand slowly travels towards mine, as if she is afraid that I will step back away from her or something. Instead, I reach out for her, I take her hand in mine, and the feeling of wholeness returns. She takes me towards the couch, and I sit down on it, bringing her down with me. She sits right next to me, her left leg touching my right, near enough for me to put my arm around my shoulders. Surprisingly, she does not reject my touch. I would have never taken her for a person that readily seeks someone's comfort, but I admit I do not know her well enough to say otherwise. She loves her family, particularly her sister, and perhaps she also gets it from Gale as well. Still, I am glad she feels well enough about me to do this, even with the Games a few days away.

"How are you?" I ask her, trying to make conversation.

"Could be better," she replies, her previous smile slowly disappearing from her face. "I feel like I am at the edge of a cliff."

"So am I." Silence falls for a few seconds, before I decide to continue. "What you did... it was very brave."

"I couldn't let this happen to my sister."

"I know. That's why it is so important. I doubt anyone else would have done what you did."

"Thank you." She stands up a little, and I turn to look at her. Her soulful gray eyes stare into mine. "Could we... speak about something else? I... I don't want to think about the Games right now."

The Games. She does not know what are my plans. I am not sure of what I might do, but she can never know that I intend to make sure she survives at all costs. That I am doing it because I love her that much, as much, or perhaps even more, than she loves Prim.

"Anything," I reply to her, wanting to do the same thing as her.

"Thank you. For... you know... everything," she says. I know what she is speaking about.

"I couldn't bear the idea that you were so hungry, you know? It was actually painful for me. I threw the bread into the fire because I knew it would be the only way I could give it to you."

"Your mother hit you."

"And it was completely worth it. I would have done it every day if you needed it."

"Well... thank you." She looks down, obviously a bit bashful.

"You're welcome."

We continue speaking, as we eat the cookies my father gave Katniss earlier. I discover that Katniss loves green colors and spring, because they remind her of the forest, and I tell her I like sunset orange and autumn, because of the colors. She discovers I like drawing and painting (but not that she is my favorite subject) and confesses (in a very low voice) that she loves hunting outside in the woods, because it makes her feel free. We speak about our best friends, Delly for me, Madge and Gale for her. The fact that, for her, Gale is something like a brother makes me feel a bit better, although that also makes me feel like a jerk, because I doubt she actually cares about that when we – or at least me – are approaching to our deaths.

This is really strange. We have just been sitting here for half an hour, and we have probably said more things to each other than in the past five years. We have shared things we would only have told each other if there was great friendship, or something deeper, between us. A connection, if you will.

I really like it. I love it, in fact. I want to know as much as possible about the girl I love, because it will provide me with a comfort in my last moments. Just her presence next to me is one of the best feelings I could have ever imagined. It is soothing, yet exciting. And, as we keep speaking, she moves closer, my embrace can get a bit tighter. I can smell her now better. Lemon and pine, and something else that must be her natural smell. And that smell is incredible, much better than anything I have ever smelled in my life.

Her forearm is exposed, and my hand is so near to it that I take a chance, and caress her skin. It is so soft, like the silk of my mother's favorite handkerchiefs. Katniss' breathing becomes a bit shallower, erratic, and goosebumps begin to appear on her skin.

"Peeta..." she whispers. I look at her, into her eyes. The gray, which was silver before, is now more mercurial, swirling and mixing with the black of her pupil.

_Why are you doing this?_ she seems to be asking, the same way I learn how she is doing every day.

Maybe this was not a good idea. Perhaps I should have tried to hold on and not touch her like this, but the temptation was to great. I pull my hand away.

"Sorry... I shouldn't have..."

"Don't stop."

Her words surprise me... and her. I can tell because she gasps and her cheeks darken more. Perhaps she did not intend me to hear that.

Nevertheless, her hand burrows under mine, seeking my touch, and her whole body also moves. I slowly lean back until I am lying down on the couch, and she climbs on top of me.

I wonder if she can hear my heart. It is beating at twice the normal rate, and so loud that I bet the train's conductor could hear it. She probably feels it, at least, because her chest is touching mine. Even through our clothes, I can feel her breasts touching mine as she breathes, and it is so much better than anything I could have ever dreamed about. Her cheeks darken, but she does not pull her eyes away from mine.

The hand I have free comes up, and I touch her hair that for so long I have wanted to. It is long, black like a raven's wing, and my fingers slide effortlessly through her still slightly damp locks, which I then put behind her ear, while my thumb lightly touches her dark, rosy cheek.

"You are so beautiful," I tell her, completely unable to keep a leash on what I feel for her. With my eyes, I try to tell her everything I have held within my heart for most of my life.

Her blush deepens, and her eyes talk to me. _I don't understand. I don't know why. But I need you. I need you to touch me. I need to touch you. I want you._

I let her make the next move. If she prefers so, she can stand up and treat this as nothing but a fleeting moment of weakness. But, if she wishes otherwise... then I will certainly make sure she does not have a reason to regret this.

Her hand comes up and touches my cheek, a reflection of how I am touching her face. Her eyes hold the entire attention of mine as they briefly look downward and then look back into my eyes. I feel her shallow breathing blowing into my face.

"Can I kiss you?" she asks. I breathe suddenly. I would have never expected that question. Hoped for? Yes. But Katniss asking me if she can kiss me? Only in my dreams. And none of my dreams have shown something as incredible as this. Even what awaits for us cannot darken the fact that the girl I love wants to kiss me.

"Yes." What else can I tell her?

She bites her lower lip softly before releasing it, and the corners of her mouth come up in a smile. Her face approaches mine, and the last thing I see before closing my eyes is her own, a black hole surrounded by a thin gray line.

Our lips touch. And it is heaven.

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

I am in a forest. But not any forest. It is my forest. The one outside our District. And I am right next to the lake Dad showed me years ago, where I catch fish and swim in summer, and at the other side of the lake there is the small house where Dad would take me some times, especially if we had to do work with what we caught. The sun is high in the sky, but it is not too hot, fortunately.

The only noise here is that of the birds singing. I would love to start singing with them, but I do not want to interrupt their melody. It is so soothing, that I might fall asleep in here. I take off my boots and socks and put my feet in the water. I have nothing to do right now, and I want to enjoy the feeling.

I hear him come behind me. He has never been the most silent person in the world, but it is better than when we first met, because then, no matter how much he tried, he would scare away anything within a mile. He has improved a lot. Especially with my particular brand of training.

"Hi, Peeta," I say. He chuckles.

"And here I wanted to surprise you," Peeta replies, sitting right next to me. I look at him. He is as handsome as always, with his blue eyes, the short, blond hair that curls in the right, exact way and which I love to curl my fingers into, and the rest of his body that makes me writhe with desire whenever we are in our bed.

"You should know that the apprentice hardly ever surpasses the master."

"Indeed. That's why your cookies are never better than mine."

I laugh. "Come on, the reason is that you haven't told me how you do your trick."

"Well, you should know a magician never reveals his tricks." His arm is now around my waist, and his fingers are playing under my shirt, touching me the way he knows I love. "Just like you never told me how you become invisible."

"Well, just like this." I snap my fingers, and I become almost invisible. Peeta told me once that there is some shimmering in the air where I am, but he has to pay a lot of attention to see it. Of course, right now he does not need it, since he is already touching me.

"You know what's the worst about this? That I can't see you."

"I know," I reply, still invisible. He found this – the part where I speak to him while he cannot see me – a bit unnerving at the beginning, but now he finds it funny, especially after he decided to make it a game and see how much it takes him to find me. The reward is always the same, no matter who wins, but it adds a lot of spice to our nights.

Peeta takes me nearer to him and sits me on his lap, before kissing me on the base of my neck. The feeling is so great that my concentration drops, and I become visible again.

"There you are again. The most beautiful woman in the world," he says. I blush. I have never been able to take compliments well, and I have always been at a loss to understand why Peeta considers me beautiful when there are many other girls that are far more attractive, but I have learned not to argue with him on that, at least not seriously. Every time I try to do that, he does not answer, but then at night he slowly undresses me and does what he calls 'worshiping my heavenly body', which leaves me overwhelmed and exhausted and so much in love with him that, at least for a few days, I believe him when he calls me beautiful.

"I love you," I tell him, and I mean it. I had always feared the idea before, knowing what deeply loving someone did to Mom, but when I am with Peeta I can understand why love is so wonderful. And every passing day, I find that I cannot live without the drug that are Peeta Mellark, his kisses, his touches and his words.

"I love you. I love you so much," he replies, and I melt against him, putting my face against his neck. So sincere he is, that it practically comes out of his pores, that I can breathe it in the air, or maybe that it is him that I can smell. Cinnamon and vanilla. Such a powerful smell that it overwhelms all of my senses and makes me want for more of him. I kiss him on his neck, and the slow moan that comes from him lights a fire in me.

I fully turn around and slowly push him down, to make him lie on the grass, so that I can climb over him and kiss him to my content. His arms hug me and he returns the kiss with vigor, inflaming both of our fires, making me wish I could take out all of his clothes and he take all of mine, so that I may once more lay claim to his entire being...

"Katniss?" someone says. It is not a man, but a woman, who calls out my name, and then the sound of someone knocking on wood.

I open my eyes, and when I see Peeta under me, I am brought back to the present. Everything was a dream. We are not in the forest, but in a train taking us to the Capitol, towards our deaths. But Peeta is not a dream. And I was really kissing Peeta, and I am still feeling the fire in me that called for ripping all of Peeta's clothes off.

I feel my face flush completely, both from the embarrassment of what I was doing, my very much non-innocent dream or vision or whatever that was and the fact that I actually want to feel Peeta inside of me. And I can imagine that Peeta is thinking something similar, because his cheeks have turned the color of particularly ripe strawberries. I look away and slowly get out of his embrace, knowing that continuing like this will break any resolve I may have.

"Y-" my voice cracks, and I clear my throat. "Yes?"

"Supper is ready," Effie says. "Have you seen Peeta? He is not in his room."

"He is here, too," I reply, unwilling to look at him while I stand up from the couch. "We were talking, and we fell asleep."

"Oh, good, good. I'll see you two soon, then." I am so glad that the door is closed, because I seriously doubt I will be able to face Effie the rest of this night without remembering what almost happened here.

I doubt I will be able to look at Peeta without thinking about that. Not that it is an unpleasant idea, but...

"I meant it, you know."

I look at him, and he is still blushing, but he is smiling, and his eyes are exactly the same as in her vision.

"When I said you were beautiful. I really meant it."

"Well... thanks," I whisper. Peeta stands up and reaches out to me, slowly taking my hand into his, and once again the feeling of sparks happens. I look straight into his eyes and I read into him.

_I want you. I want to kiss you again. I want to touch you._

And it is somewhat distressing that I actually want the same.

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

Supper is a very awkward moment.

Haymitch has yet to make an appearance, which I guess it is because he has drunk so much today that he has fainted in his room, so it is just Effie, Katniss and me. Katniss stays silent and hardly lifts her eyes from her dish. I guess it is because she is still embarrassed over what happened in her room, but I could see in her eyes that she actually liked it. At least, it is what I think, but I dare not presume anything. Effie tries to fill the air with her chattering, and I answer politely to her, but things are mostly silent.

In the meantime, Katniss takes advantage of the access to food and eats non-stop. It is probably a combination of wanting to eat her fill and storing up energy for the Games. A good strategy, I think, and I imitate her. I yearn to be able to touch her under the table, and least to take her hand, but I hold back. I am not sure of whether she will welcome it.

One of the night's highlights comes when Effie comments that we have better table manners than the kids from last year. I remember them. They were two Seam kids that really looked like they had never gone to bed without being hungry. I could bet that they all but took advantage of the almost unlimited food they had access to: I doubt manners were the first thing in their minds when they were told they could eat to their heart's content. Katniss clearly takes offense to Effie's comment, because she begins to eat as sloppily as she can, using her fingers to pick all sorts of meat and fish and then cleaning her hands on the tablecloth. Effie's lips are pressured together, while I struggle not to laugh out loud.

In the meantime, I try to think about the vision I had while kissing Katniss. The place I saw was somewhere I have never been to, but vision me had. It is definitely somewhere Katniss has been before, so I guess it is in the woods outside the fence. I think vision me and Katniss were married or engaged to. Hearing her say that she loved me was nothing short of fantastic. But the most impressive thing was to see her do magic: the fact that she could become invisible was really, really impressive, but vision me treated it as something normal. This vision might be a signal that there is a lot more to Katniss Everdeen than just the beautiful huntress that fights to ensure her family's survival.

"Do you know why Mr Abernathy has chosen to remain in his room?" Effie asks, breaking my train of thought.

"He is... ill," I say diplomatically.

"More likely drunk," Effie replies with a huff. "Certainly, that man knows nothing of how to behave in public. Just like in the Reaping. Honestly, shouting out loud like that!"

"Well, you can't fault him. He's gone through too many things. That's why he is drunk every year," I tell Effie.

"More like every day," Katniss interrupts. I can tell that she, too, knows why Haymitch Abernathy drinks.

"I don't know why you treat this with such a blasé attitude," Effie hisses, "but you would do well to remember that he is the only person that can make deals with any possible sponsors while you are in the arena."

And, of course, to continue with our lucky strike, Haymitch enters the room, clearly drunk.

"Wha's this? I missed supper?" he asks, stumbling around and with a bottle in hand. I stand up and rush for him so that he does not fall to the floor. He is really heavy, a lot more than the flour bags I carry at home, but my training in wrestling and lifting weights pays off, and I prevent him from taking a dive again.

"Damn, Haymitch, couldn't you hold off drinking for a couple of days?" I ask him, even if I know that he is unlikely to remember this. Right now, my best hope is that he does not vomit all over the carpet.

"Whateva, kid," Haymitch says. His breath smells heavily of alcohol.

"Katniss, would you mind giving me a hand? I'm taking him back to his room," I ask Katniss, struggling.

"Sure," she says, and she stands up as well, moving to Haymitch's other side. Between the two of us – mostly me, since I am taller – we manage to carry our mentor to his room. At least, I guess it is his room, since it is the only one of those marked with **Mentor** that is open.

It is difficult to enter the room, as the doors were obviously not made to allow two people to come through at the same time, let alone three, so we need to get in sideways, which is not easy when the person in the center does not feel like collaborating. Between Katniss and me, though, we manage to get Haymitch in and put him on his bed. I manage to find a dustbin in the room and place it next to his bed, in case he needs to vomit and cannot reach the bathroom on time .

"You'd better be sober tomorrow, Haymitch, because we are going to need your help," I tell the man.

"Sure, kid. Talk to you later," he says, before falling asleep and starting to snore.

"Great," Katniss mutters.

"He'll probably be up and moving tomorrow." I approach Katniss, and she seems nervous. She is probably still thinking about what happened in her room. "What do you say to going back to the table and finish dinner? You can further impress Effie with your great table manners in the process."

Katniss smiles and looks about to laugh, and, god, she is amazing.

We return to the table. Effie has apparently decided to finish while we were away, which means things are a bit more comfortable, albeit a bit more silent, than before. Instead of sitting next to Katniss, I decide to sit in front of her, so that I can actually look at her. I speak with her, telling her a few things, anything to keep our minds off our destination. She speaks little at first, but I slowly manage to get her out of her shell, and by the time we finally finish our desert, I am laughing at her description of her 'war' with her sister's cat Buttercup.

"Ugh, I'm full," I say, reclining back in my chair. I actually feel a bit ill with all the food I have just eaten: I probably am going green around the gills.

"So... am... I..." she replies. She does sound a bit tired. Probably it took her a bit of an effort to eat as much as she has. "Too early to sleep. What should we do?"

"Don't know. Maybe... maybe we could see the other tributes? I think they are showing the Reaping some time soon."

"Sure. Your room or mine?"

I lift an eyebrow and smile at her, and she slightly blushes when she realizes the other meaning what she said could have.

"We've been at yours before, so... mine?"

"OK." I stand up and move next to her, taking her hand when she stands. She smiles slightly at me. "Isn't a bit presumptuous of you to take my hand like this?"

"Well, you didn't exactly have any problem in taking mine before. Not that I am complaining."

"I... I like it. Your hands. They feel nice."

I feel like my insides are doing a dance of their own. I actually feel like dancing.

"Then you may take a hold of them whenever you want." I tug her hand towards the door. "Shall we?"

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

I have never imagined myself to be one to cuddle. The most I do is to sleep with my sister, both because it helps a bit with the nightmares and because it helps us keep warm at night. While awake, though, I have never been one to seek the comfort of someone else, save my sister and, once or twice, Gale.

And yet, here I am, sitting on a couch, happily cuddling with Peeta Mellark as we watch how the other tributes are Reaped, and actually liking the feeling of his body next to mine, of his arm around my shoulders.

It is curious. Both of us are going to be sent to our deaths soon. We will have to fight against people our age to see who is the last to survive. One of us, probably both of us, will never make it back home. But I am calm. Peeta's touch, his mere presence, exercises a calming effect on me. And, at the same time, his presence is a daunting exercise in self-control, because the memory of that vision thing is still haunting me. The most risk-loving part of me, the one that pushes me to hunt, is now _demanding_ that I kiss Peeta again, that I taste him and his lips.

In the meantime, we watch how the other Tributes were reaped.

From District One come two volunteers. Marvel Espel, who looks quite strong, although not brilliant, and Glimmer Carat, a girl that seems to be someone that uses her sexuality to get her point through.

District Two provides Cato Junius, who lunges forward to become a volunteer and seems to be someone who uses brute force, and Clove Allium, who also volunteers and has an expression that screams 'sadist'.

The District Three tributes are younger than us, but I know better than to think that an advantage. Steven Efem and Ada Sipew come from the technology district, and they might be able to find uses for their knowledge.

District Four, the fishing district, has two volunteers. The boy, Zeno Entail, seems to be young and agile, while the girl, Andrea Scale, who looks my age and probably is quite fast.

District Five comes next, and I notice that Julie Renard, the girl, looks like a fox and seems to be a cunning girl, while the boy, Barrett Eisee, is probably quite likely someone that will use force to survive.

District Six's Tributes look our age, and look fast, which is quite normal, given that they come from the transportation, but I do not see in either Jack Porter or Jennifer Drivers the same instinct that drives others.

District Seven has Gummarus Oaken and Olivia Madison. Both of them are plain, but I know that they are likely to be good with using axes, probably since they were little kids, because of the huge forests surrounding them.

Marcus Nyle and Esther Silk from District Eight are somewhat young, but tall for their age. He seems to be strong, but she does not. As District Eight is mostly urban, they probably will not know much about survival.

The District Nine Tributes, Bernard Sienna and Notburga Eben, are young as well, and very thin. They might be good if they manage to get their hands on a sickle, but they probably will not last much.

District Ten has Hadrian Morris and Fannie Oakley. She looks a lot younger than what the television says and he seems very strong, but I cannot tell much else about them.

The last surprise arrives with District Eleven. Thresh Peach looks huge, probably the tallest of all Tributes. And Rue Ala... she's young. And tiny. And, even though her skin is very dark and her hair is black, she reminds me of Prim so much that I almost sob when no one volunteers for her.

And then... I know what is happening. It feels so... weird, and far away, even though it happened a few hours ago. I hear Prim's name being called. I see myself stepping forward, pushing people aside and shouting my willingness to volunteer for her. I see my desperation in trying to save my sister from a sure death. I see Haymitch shouting and tripping, calling attention away from me. I hear Peeta's name being called. I see him walk forward. Determined. But... resigned. The presenters comment on the fact that I am the first volunteer for District Twelve ever, and wonder how that will relate in the arena.

I look at him, and he is looking back at me.

_I will never hurt you._

"Do you really mean it?" I whisper before I can control myself. He is sincere, I can tell, but I want to hear him say it.

"What?" he whispers back.

"That you won't hurt me."

He is surprised. Maybe he did not expect me to say that, or perhaps he actually thought that, and I somehow .

"Yeah. I mean it. I'd sooner stab myself than hurt you. But... I never said it aloud."

"I know. It was like..."

"... you read it in my eyes." The way he says it tells me that he is not surprised.

"Yeah." My next question comes soon out. "You can do it, too?"

"Only with you," he replies. "And I guess you can only do it with me, as well."

I nod, hardly keeping my eyes away from his. Just a couple of hours ago, I saw them real up and close before kissing him. And now that I know this, I study his eyes, with intent. I see humility. I see sincerity.

I see the truth. I see that there might be something else we have in common.

"When we kissed..." I say, carefully, "did you see something?"

"Yes."

"What did you see?"

"A lake in a forest. The most beautiful woman in the world sitting on the shore," he whispers, caressing my face, and again I blush. What is wrong with me? It takes a lot to make me blush. But since I stepped on this train, my face has flushed more times than in the rest of my life. "I spoke with her about a few of our tricks, and she became invisible, at least until I kissed her. And then, she told me what she felt for me."

I lean further, so that I can whisper into his ear. "You are a sorcerer." Not a question, a statement.

"You are a sorceress."

I can feel his smile. I do not even need to see it to know it is there. I smile as well. I wish Dad was here. He would have been so glad to know that we were not the only sorcerers in District Twelve, and would wonder if there were more of them, hiding away. But I am also happy that he can know. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. And it feels like I can trust Peeta with anything. We have a connection, deeper than what I have with anyone else, save perhaps Prim.

"You can do magic."

"Just like you can. And, just so you know... everything I said in the vision?" he says.

"Yes?"

"Real."

I know what he means. I close my eyes and try to breathe deeply. When I do it, I catch his scent. A bit of roses, but also cinnamon and vanilla. Like in the vision. My heartbeat is now just as fast as it was a few hours ago. My attempts to calm down fail, and my breathing becomes more erratic. Heat pools in me, in ways I only have felt when I dreamed of Peeta.

"I want to kiss you again," I say. I want to do it. Really. I want to feel the same things I felt in the vision. I want to feel alive before I face my death.

"So do I," he replies.

Before I lose my nerve, I turn my head and kiss him again. I do not begin to have a vision, like before, but the same feelings flare up again. The rational part of my mind is shouting at me to stop and think, to step away from Peeta, but my instincts overwhelm it like a avalanche and shut it up.

I put one of my hands on the side of his face and the other on the back of his head. One of his arms moves under my knees and he sits me on his lap. My hand hooks into his hair, and his fingers comb mine. I open my mouth and experimentally let the tip of my tongue run over his lips. His moan tells me he likes it, and fuels the fire in me.

The hand I had on his face moves lower. I touch his chest and my hand trembles when I feel the muscles under his shirt. One of his hands travels between my hair and my back, touching both and making me moan in pleasure. Damn, his hands make me feel like a ball of dough in his family's bakery.

All too soon, a physical need prevents me from continuing to kiss him. I have to break off the kiss – I immediately miss the feeling of his lips on mine – and let my head back, breathing in the air that is suddenly so fantastic and feels so great as it enters my lungs and gives me life again.

But only when I open my eyes and look into his eyes... it is only then when I realize that he has showed me that there are other ways to be alive. He has showed me that I am not alone here.

_I love you. I love you so much, that I would do anything so that you can live._

I know he is sincere. But I also know now what he is planning to do. And I cannot let him do that.

It is strange, you know? I always thought I would be able to get through life without falling in love with someone, without marrying someone, without having children. But it has only taken Peeta Mellark less than half a day to turn it around, to make me want for more than just being alive. It has only taken Peeta Mellark less than half of a day to make me realize that what I have felt every time I looked at him since the day with the dandelion was not just gratitude. It was love. It is love.

I love Peeta Mellark. I am in love with him. I have been in love with the boy with the bread since I was eleven years old and he saved me with his loaves and his innate kindness, and I did not know about it until he finally showed me what it meant.

I do not know if I should scream in joy, in sadness or in hysterics. Because I remember how much in love Mom was with Dad, and how much she changed after losing him. And now, I will either die or suffer the same destiny. As much as I wish I could step back to a moment when he was just a friend, it is impossible. He has trapped me, or rather, I have willingly fallen into his embrace. The best and the worst, at the same time.

I am not going to let him do what he is planning. I will not let Peeta sacrifice himself for me. I look him in the eye, and tell him with my mind.

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

_I love you. And I will not let you sacrifice yourself for me._

That is what I read in her eyes. And I know she is sincere.

"Do you really mean it?" I ask her. I am sure she actually means it, but listening to her speak, say so aloud, means a lot to me, that I am actually.

"You know what I said in the vision?"

"Yes?"

"Real. I don't know how, or why, or when, but it's real. And I don't want it in any other way. It's too fast, but I don't care." She breathes in. "I love you."

My lips curve up in a smile, but it is a bittersweet smile. Those three words were ones I would have loved to hear at any other moment, but right now, they are tinged with the pain of knowing that either of us could die in any moment.

"And I am never going to let you sacrifice yourself for me. You get that?" she continues.

"What if... what if we have no other choice?"

"There's always another choice. Don't you dare kill yourself if you think I can win that way. If you do that, I'll never forgive you."

"There's no way I'm letting you die if I can help it, either," I reply.

"Well, then we will both have to survive." She smiles, and so do I. We both know that this is impossible. It would take a miracle for us both to do that. Rules could be changed. A way to escape the arena could appear. All tributes could choose not to fight. The Hunger Games could be abolished. We could fake our deaths. President Snow could actually die for real. Another Rebellion could begin. The entire Capitol could collapse onto itself. I would take even an invasion by beings from up there if it means that the Hunger Games are not celebrated any more and that Katniss and I can go on and stay together without anything in our path blocking us.

But, well, sometimes rules were made to be broken. And maybe, just maybe, the stars will align and we can escape the main rule of the Hunger Games: there can only be one winner.

It is a bit late, though, and I am fighting to keep my eyes open. I would love to stay the entire night here, in the couch, with Katniss asleep in my arms, but I do not have that right. At least, not yet. She covers her mouth and yawns a bit, which makes me yawn as well.

"It's been a long day," I say. Long and exciting and tiring and many other things. "Do you want to go to sleep?"

"Yeah," she replies, and she sounds so tired that I think I might have to carry her in my arms to her room, not that it would not be interesting. In fact, I would love to be able to take her bridal style there. Unfortunately, it seems that she still has strength to walk away on her own, so she stands up and slowly walks for the door.

I am not going to let her go that easily, though. I follow her, and just as she starts to open the door, I push it close.

"Can I kiss you good night?" I ask her when she turns around. She smiles, but instead of answering, she just put her arms around my neck and kisses me softly. I put my arms around her thin waist and kiss her back. This one tastes sweeter than the others, because she has just admitted to me that she loves me, but it is too short.

"Good night, Peeta. And have sweet dreams," she says.

"They will probably be, if you are in them." Yes, it is cheesy, but, hey, she is doing really weird things with my mind and I think I actually like that. "Sleep tight."

"Thank you." She gives me another soft kiss and comes out of the door before closing behind her. I wish I could follow her, but I doubt it would be a good idea, as much as I would love to sleep with her in my arms. A bit of comfort before we get thrown to the wolves.

I sigh and decide to get ready for bed. I go to the bathroom and flush my teeth, and then decide to just forgo wearing a shirt to sleep. It is warm, so I doubt I will freeze in this train.

I fall asleep soon, warmed over both by my memories of Katniss and the temperature, but my sleep is troubled. It is all a series of confusing images, one after the other. A fire that eats everything. Some kind of horrible mixes between wolves and humans running after us. Losing myself in a labyrinth. Attacked by horrible wasps. Explosions. Earthquakes.

And Katniss is there. In all of the nightmares, I am separated from her, or she is injured, or she dies. The pain in my heart is always the same. Even worse than what I felt when I saw her in the backyard, five years ago. Again, and again, and again. I try to wrestle against the images, try to stop them, but it is impossible, I cannot fight them. Suddenly, I feel like I am falling.

I open my eyes, and immediately feel the pain on my back and neck while I look at the roof. I must have fallen off my bed in my sleep. Looks like I was actually wrestling against something. I smile a bit before starting to move. I fight the pain while I stand up and get out of my room. I need to go check on Katniss. I need to know that she is well, and sleeping peacefully.

In the darkness of the corridor, and worried about Katniss as I am, I do not notice that there is someone else moving along the corridor until I crash into her, her face into my chest.

"Ow!" the other person says. The voice is easy to recognize.

"Katniss?"

"Peeta? What are you doing here?"

"I... I wanted to check on you." No need to mention the nightmares. "And you?"

"... the same," she replies in the same tone as me. The fact that she is now here is now helping me to reduce the tension caused by the nightmares, and I chuckle.

"Great minds think alike," I tell her, and even in the darkness of this room I know she is smiling. "Are you OK?" I ask her, remembering that she crashed face first into me.

"Yeah, don't worry. It only hurt a bit."

"I'm glad." I move my hand slowly in the darkness, and I manage to find her elbow easily. I slowly trace my way down her arm until I find her hand. "Wouldn't like to actually break my promise."

"I'm glad, too."

"Do you..." I begin to ask, but stop. It is a bit ridiculous thing to ask of her, after all, and, even if she loves me, I doubt she will be so acceptable of the idea.

"Do I?" she asks back, and I believe I can even hear a bit of a teasing tone in her voice.

"Do you... want to stay with me? We can... check on each other... easier, you know," I reply, lamely, glad about the darkness so that she cannot see my blush, and hoping that she will not get angry.

"OK," she says, almost whispering.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Which room, then? Your room, or mine?"

Katniss softly laughs, probably remembering earlier this evening, when she made the same question. "Mine, if you want."

"Anywhere is good."

I follow her towards her room, and once there she turns the light on, letting me see her beauty. She is wearing a simple black shirt and shorts that accentuate her slim figure, and the curve where her legs and her back meet looks so delicious that, if I had less self-control, I would be reaching to touch her.

"You're staring," she says.

"Well, your body is a beautiful thing to look at," I reply, approaching her.

"You are hallucinating, or too tired."

"One day, I'll say it and you'll believe me." Both of us know it is an empty promise, but it feels good to say it.

"Maybe. Let's get to bed. We have a long day tomorrow."

Her bed is unmade, and even though it is identical to mine, somehow looks more comforting. Perhaps it is because of the company that I am going to be having, or perhaps it is just that I am so tired. I climb in first, and move to the side nearest to the wall so that Katniss may climb in behind me. With my back to the wall, I can let Katniss cuddle with me, or stay as away from me as she wants to.

When she gets in the bed and moves the covers over our bodies, I smile as she slides towards me, and I put an arm around her waist as we spoon.

"You can't believe how many times I thought about being with you like this," I whisper to her.

"I dreamed about being like this with you, a few times," she confesses.

"I hope not to disappoint you, then."

She turns around into my embrace and kisses me. "I doubt that will happen," she tells me, and she turns around again before sighing and closing her eyes.

Even though I thought I would be awake for longer, enjoying the feeling of Katniss' body against mine, I do not take too long in following her into sleep.

**A/N: There goes Chapter 2, and certainly the plot thickens! **

**First things first, if you complain about them going so fast, then I'll point out that I have already stated that these Katniss and Peeta are different. Katniss is a bit more attentive to Peeta, and they have this connection that both of them have commented on. And the fact that Katniss has sworn not to have children or marry means little when considering what happened in the books. In here, right now she has actually realized that her feelings are far more than what she believed, and she knows (or thinks) that there is going to be little time for them to be together (we know otherwise, though *grin*). **

**Things continue to go through the same path, but the divergence is becoming greater as time passes. I am trying to avoid a few things that get repeated a few too many times in fanfics, such as Haymitch vomiting at dinner or other things. Giving names to every Tribute was a struggle, because I wanted to make sure each name could be actually given to them in their district and that it was part of the theme naming for each place (though, several of them I just worked out how to make them joke-y, such as Clove). Trying to describe them in just a few words was also a bit of a pain, although I hope I made it well enough.**

**For my The Hunger Games' Fanfic Recommendation, I have to choose "All the President's Men" by Baroness Kika (Story ID: 9612047). Young, charismatic Peeta Mellark has been thrust into the role of President of Panem after Snow's oppressive administration fell. Katniss Everdeen is a Peacekeeper that has been tasked to take care of the only person Peeta loves more than his country. As both of them struggle with their tasks, they find that there are things that they cannot fight at all.**

**Finally, answers for the two people that took their time to review (remember that reviews show that you love my story! You 28 that follow the story (particularly the 10 that made this story a favorite), please, write reviews!):**

**Zoey303: Here is it!**

**RoseyPosey1025: hope you are still alive. And there is not more because I cannot write 24/7.**


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

We are together again.

But this time, it is somewhere else. We are in a bed, a wide bed with two small tables at the sides, and walls painted as if we were in the forest. His arms surround my waist, his breath and face hairs tickle my neck and light slowly trickles through the window.

"Morning, Katniss," Peeta whispers, kissing me in the base of my neck, right on the place he knows makes my knees buckle and my intimate parts wet with desire for him.

"Morning, Peeta," I reply, and I turn into his embrace, kissing him deeply and passing one of my legs over his. I moan at the feeling of his tongue touching mine, and our nakedness means he brushes against me in the most exciting way possible. "And it looks like someone else in here is awake, too," I say, impishly.

"What can I say, Mrs Mellark, you are certainly an inspiration to my eyes."

I laugh, and his hands begin to travel all over my back, softly touching me and making me feel relaxed and excited at the same time.

"I love you so much, Peeta. You are the best thing that has happened to me," I tell him, enjoying the feeling of his hand on my back. I actually moan when he touches me right above my ass and when his fingers trace the curve of my butt.

"I don't know what I would do without you," he whispers, kissing me again. Suddenly, the door to our room opens, and in comes our daughter Aileen, bouncing and shouting like any child her age would do in her birthday.

"Mama! Dada! I got lots of presents! Lots and lots!" she screams, jumping into our bed and hugging Peeta enthusiastically. He puts Aileen between us and the two of us hug her before starting to tickle her, making her laugh out loud and try to push our hands away.

"Honey, why don't you go get changed? I'll make you your favorite for breakfast," Peeta says after a few seconds.

"Cheese buns?" she asks, and I smile. She clearly has inherited my tastes, at least when it comes to bread.

"Of course," Peeta replies. Aileen jumps out of our bed and rushes back to hers with a happy scream.

"You are the best father," I tell him, approaching him again.

He does not reply, he just puts his hand behind my neck and begins to kiss me hungrily, as if he wants me for breakfast...

"Katniss! Wake up! Today is going to be a big, big, big day!"

I open my eyes and I realize that, for the second time in a day, I have been kissing Peeta Mellark while I had a dream with him. Such a vivid dream that I could almost swear it was real. And, for the second time, Effie Trinket has awakened us both at the same time from our fantasy.

I don't have the time to answer to Effie, because I can hear her rapid steps taking her away towards Peeta's room.

"I can definitely say that this is my favorite way to wake up," Peeta says, smiling at her in a way that makes butterflies sprout in her. I think about it, about how wonderful it feels to be next to him and how great I slept. And I know he catches that because his smile becomes bigger.

"Aileen?" I ask him. The name of our daughter in the dream or vision.

"Yeah."

_The better the dreams are, the more painful they become_, I think, knowing that he will be able to pick up on it. It is great, because no one can hear what we say, but I also know that it will become worse when either of us dies.

_I know_, he thinks back at me. _I wish it was all real._

_I wish we were still at Twelve, and that we could have had more time together. _

"I wish I had been willing to speak up sooner, to tell you the truth," he says aloud.

"No need to cry over spoiled milk," I reply, giving him a kiss. "You should go have a shower before we go have breakfast."

"Mind joining me?" he says, his grin becoming a smirk.

I blush. Where is the shy boy with the bread that hardly spoke up?

"Don't think it'll be fast enough," I reply to him, and I realize a bit too late about the double meaning of that.

"OK. Just wanted to tell you, I want to experience as much with as possible. Before we go into the arena, you know?"

_Before both of us are twenty-four/seven under a camera and begin to run the risk of death._ He does not say it, but I know that is what he means.

"I do." I kiss him again, and sneak out of his embrace, missing it as soon as I am out of it. "I'm having a shower, and as tempting as your offer is, no, you are not invited."

"Well, another time, then," he replies, getting out of bed and kissing me when he reaches me, right next to the door. "Just think. I'll be thinking of you while I am showering."

Damn. The thunderbolt that his words provoke goes straight through me, and I feel the need to get naked and get some good relief, particularly as I imagine him doing exactly the same.

"See you at breakfast, then."

Peeta gets out of my room, and I rush into the bathroom, throwing my bedclothes aside to be able to calm this need to touch myself while I imagine him taking me while inside.

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

After a long shower – that is what I get for fantasizing about Katniss being with me – I get dressed and reach Katniss' door. I do not have to wait a lot, because she gets out right now, wearing a set of dark green shirt and pants and her hair in a tight ponytail that shows off her neck. Damn, I want to kiss her neck.

"Hey."

"Hey. Shall we?" she asks me, pointing for the room where supper was served yesterday.

"Sure," I reply, offering her my hand for her to take. She does, and we walk hand by hand into the dining room.

To my surprise, the only person sitting by the table is Haymitch, who looks remarkably well for a man that should be suffering a massive headache from hangover.

"Morning, kids," he tells us. "Effie's already had her breakfast. I convinced her to let you sleep a bit more, so now you'll only have me to speak with."

"Thank heavens," I hear Katniss whisper, and I snort. She clearly did not enjoy Effie's prattling from yesterday.

"Here," Haymitch says, putting two mugs in front of us as soon as we sit down. "Have a bit of this. You'll probably enjoy it a bit."

I smell, and smile a bit. Hot chocolate. It has been a while since the last time I had some. Nearly all the chocolate we get at the bakery, my mother makes us use it for the cakes and other things, and I suspect that a couple of times she has actually sneaked out an ounce. I think so, because there have been a few times where she accused me of taking a piece even though I did not have the key.

"What is it?" Katniss asks, and I feel bad. At least, I have had chocolate. She probably has never been able to taste it.

"Try it. It's hot chocolate," I tell her. To show her it is not bad, I take one of the mugs and take a gulp. It is much better than any I have tasted before. This must be the chocolate they have at the Capitol.

"Didn't know they made it like this," she tells me, before tipping the mug enough to taste it. I bet that, if I kiss her now, she will taste like the hot chocolate. And it will be sweeter.

_This tastes delicious_, I hear her think as she puts her mug down, and I smile as I see her lower lip has a bit of chocolate on it.

_Katniss, you've got a bit of chocolate on your lip,_ I think to her, passing my finger over the similar position in my mouth, even though I would love to kiss it. She looks at me with a smile and takes her lip into her mouth, cleaning the chocolate off it. Damn.

"Alright, you two," Haymitch says, interrupting my thoughts. "So, I am supposed to be mentoring you two, right?"

"Yeah. So, any suggestions on what to do?"

"Sure. You should stay alive."

Haymitch starts laughing, as if he had just been told the funniest joke of the world. I do not find it funny, and neither does Katniss, considering her expression. I stand up and grab Haymitch by his shirt, angry, and then I punch him in the face. He stops laughing.

"You think it's funny? You know we could die if you don't help us, AND YOU LAUGH AT THE IDEA?" I shout at him, furious by his attitude. I abhor violence, but after this night of sleep, and knowing what I am going to lose, I just explode.

Showing quite a surprising force, given his age and drinking problem, Haymitch punches me back. The pain is not too much, but it is enough to stun me for a second. I feel my hands getting wet from blood, and I realize both that I brought them to my face and that my nose is bleeding, although I think it is not broken, fortunately.

_DON'T YOU DARE...!_ I hear the furious shout in my mind.

Before I can react further beyond opening my eyes to see Haymitch angry, something flies right in front of his face and the sound of glass breaking fills the air. I turn my head towards my left, and I see that a portrait on the wall is now pierced by a knife, and shards of glass are now on the floor right in front of the portrait.

I look right, and I see Katniss is also standing, looking angrily at Haymitch. Given the position of the knife, it is quite obvious what has happened. Even through the pain, I can see her as a beautiful, avenging angel. And, dare I say it, she looks really good.

"Did you just throw a knife at me, sweetheart?" Haymitch says in a dangerous tone.

"Not at you, directly," she replies, in a tone that sounds just as dangerous as his. "Just a friendly warning. Touch him again, and it'll go a bit nearer to you, old man."

Haymitch looks really surprised at Katniss' answer, but then he does something I do not expect. He smiles.

"Well, look at this. A pair of fighters. And you are certainly not afraid to show it."

I wonder what is going on, although it looks like he actually likes what Katniss and I have done.

_The hell?_ Katniss thinks, just as confused as I am. Haymitch looks at both of us, and seems to be thinking as Katniss brings me a napkin to stop my nosebleed.

"You OK?" she asks me, softly.

"Yeah, don't worry. It'll stop soon," I reply, smiling at her, or trying at least. I think it comes out more like a grimace than any other thing. She turns, and looks at Haymitch, still angry with the man.

"Sorry for the nose, kid, but I don't like being manhandled like that," he says. "Still, good show. And, sweetheart, I stand by what I said at the Reaping. You've certainly got spunk." He sits again on the table and continues with his breakfast. "What are you two waiting for? You need to have some food, today's going to be a long day."

Katniss looks at me, and I think that it is getting a bit weird. She nods and smiles a bit, before moving again for the table and sitting down. I do the same, and both of us keep eating while I check whether my nosebleed is stopping or not.

"So, you pack quite a punch, kid. And you are good with a knife, sweetheart. Any other abilities that I should learn about? Give me something to work with."

I instantly know what kind of thing he wants to know.

"Katniss is amazing with a bow," I tell Haymitch. "She can hit a squirrel in the eye at fifteen meters, and a bird in flight."

_What are you doing?_ Katniss asks me.

_Giving you a hand_, I reply at her.

_Two can play that game_.

"Peeta can lift a lot of weight. I've seen him carrying two fifty-pound flour bags without sweating."

"Katniss can move very silently, no matter where she is."

"Peeta only came second behind his brother at the school's wrestling competition."

"Katniss can climb a tree in a few seconds."

_How do you know that?_

_You bring bird eggs sometimes, and I doubt you wait for them to fall on their own._

"Peeta is great with decorating cakes."

"How does that help him, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks.

"Shows ability with patterns. He could use that for camouflage," Katniss replies. That is a good idea, actually.

"Good thinking. Now, something else. What's the deal between you two? Because you certainly don't behave like you are just friends. And I'm sure I would have heard if a Merchant kid and a Seam girl ever got together."

I look at Katniss. _Should we tell him?_

_Don't know. Maybe... maybe we could say it happened a few days ago?_

_I would have asked you out yesterday, you know. If we hadn't been Reaped, that is._ I take her hand under the table, and slowly caress the back of her hand. She smiles.

_Really?_

_Yeah._

"Well, it started just a few days ago," Katniss says, switching out of our mental conversation.

"So, you are together?"

"Yeah," I say.

"Good. Now, you want advice. I'll give you advice. From this moment to the second you are sent into the Arena, whenever you are in public, stick together. Let people see you as a couple. Holding hands, speaking, maybe a few kisses here and there, but not too much. Anything you can do to make sure that people in there cannot think of the two of you as separate units."

"How's that going to help us?"

"I've been going to the Capitol for twenty-three years, sweetheart, and I know a lot of people. If there's something people there love more than the Games, it's a good romantic story. They'll be suckers for the two of you, particularly if we time it correctly. You do things right, you'll be showered with sponsor gifts."

"But... still..."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, and believe me, if it were up to me, none of you would be entering that place, or I'd try to save you both. It'd take a miracle for that to happen, though."

The rest of the breakfast is silent. Because both Katniss and me are still thinking about the fact that what we have, what we had never thought we would find is not going to be forever.

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

Effie warns us that we are reaching the Capitol train station, so we have to get ready. After brushing my teeth and cleaning up from breakfast, I remember there is something I should not forget. I look for the blue dress I was wearing yesterday (it is folded and kept in one drawer) and I pick the mockingjay pin Madge gave me, pinning it on my clothes. I hope that my mother will have the dress back soon... or not. I do not know how she will react when she gets it.

I push that thought away. It will do me little good to think about how Mom might crash again when I die. Best if I try to concentrate on enjoying the last few days of relative freedom I have, and then on surviving as much as possible in the arena.

I reach the door where we will be dropping off the train from, and Peeta is already there, waiting for me with that small smile that is so contagious and handsome. I smile back at him, and the bad sensations diminish.

"So, ready for this?" he asks me.

"More or less," I reply.

"I'll be here the entire time. You know, in the unlikely case you actually feel overwhelmed."

"Thanks. I actually feel better with you near." I reach up and kiss him softly, putting my arms around his neck. Doing this feels right. So right, that I wonder how I spent so much time without him, and wonder what could have been if we had been together for longer.

"You are great," he says when we break off. His eyes then become fixated on the pin in my clothes. "What's this?"

"A mockingjay," I tell him. "It's a present from Madge, and I hope it can be my token."

"Like the ones that listened to your father," he whispers, caressing the little bird with his thumb. "Makes sense to make him your symbol."

"Do you have a token?"

He pulls his sleeve back and I see a leather and thread bracelet. "I made this with Delly Cartwright when we were five. It didn't fit either of us then, but now it does, so she gave it to me."

I feel a bit jealous at this. I wish he could have something from me, but, well, I cannot deny him this. However, there is something I want to know.

"Were you and Delly..." I begin to ask, but I do not finish the question.

"No," he says, smirking. "Actually, if you ask her, she'd tell you that I'm like her brother. She has actually hounded me for years to tell you what I felt for you. If it weren't for all of this, I'm sure that she would be cheering a lot."

I nod, wondering what Gale would be saying about Peeta and me. I have always felt about him like I would a brother, but the last I saw of him, it seemed as if he actually wanted to say something else.

"There you are!" Effie exclaims, getting me out of my thoughts. "We are arriving in ten minutes, so make sure you are ready. Smile at everyone and they'll like you for sure!"

I grimace a bit, thinking about how those people that might like us will also gleefully see us sent into the butcher. Just then, the train suddenly enters a tunnel, and we are taken into darkness until a couple of lights turn on in the train. Effie gushes, knowing that we are about to reach the place, and then realizes she has left something at her cabin that she must have to make her grand return to the Capitol.

"Kids," Haymitch says, taking the place Effie has just left. "One last piece of advice. As soon as we reach the place, you are going to be put in the hands of a group of stylists. They are in charge of making sure that you are up to standards, at least according to the point of view of the Capitol." He scoffs at the idea. "Whatever they do, don't complain."

"What?" I ask.

"I know it sounds strange, but this is serious. Stylists can be really touchy and fussy when it comes to dealing with tributes. The less bad things you say to them, the faster things will go. Of course, if you later feel the need to curse and hit something, you can do that tomorrow at the training."

Peeta chuckles, and I smile a bit at the idea.

"And remember. You are together."

"We know that already," Peeta says, putting his arms around my waist.

"Good. When we arrive, I'll try to keep Effie back for a few seconds. The more attention you can call to yourselves, the best."

"Are you sure?" I ask. The idea of calling attention to myself is foreign to me. I have always dealt with sticking to the shadows, being invisible, ensuring no one pays attention to me more than what is strictly necessary.

"Yeah." He takes a swig of his flask as the train begins to slow down, signaling that we are approaching our destination. If it were not for Peeta's presence, I am sure I would be shaking with the nerves.

"You are going to be careful with the alcohol, right, Haymitch?" Peeta asks. "Because you won't be any good if you are drunk half the time."

"Don't worry, kid. I'll stay sober enough to help you. And, anyway, I work a lot better when I have a bit of alcohol in the system," Haymitch replies, and he then moves back from us a bit, trying to make good on his promise to hold Effie back and let us be the first out of the door.

It is only a couple of minutes later that the train finally stops. I look out of the window, and I am astonished at the huge train station, not to mention the many people that seem to be waiting for us. Even through the train window, I am getting blinded because of the large number of flashes from the photos that are being taken of us.

"Wave, Katniss," Peeta whispers to me, still embracing me from behind. "Any of those people could be rich, and they might sponsor us if they like us."

"They are probably going to sponsor you more. You are so good and nice, they'll love you."

"That's because you don't know the effect you have on people, Katniss. It doesn't matter that you have never been one of the most outgoing people in the world. You have this... fire in you, that burns brightly just with your presence."

I do not know what to answer, so I just do what he suggests, and wave as the doors open.

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

After we slowly get out of the train, making sure that everyone sees us smiling and waving and that we are still holding hands, we are escorted into a car by Effie – miffed at being held back from her grand entrance – Haymitch – quite amused by Effie's small tantrum – and a couple of Peacekeepers – who just seemed bored by the entire thing.

The car swiftly takes us through the streets, which are empty of cars but not of people, to the circle where the Tributes' Parade will take place later today. The car enters through a large door into a tall building, which I barely recognize as the place where the tributes come from every year.

"What's this place?" I ask Effie, curious.

"It's the Training Center," Haymitch says before Effie can reply. "You kids are staying here till you're sent to the arena. Your stylists are already there. Remember what I said before."

Effie turns to Haymitch and starts to angrily discuss with him the fact that he has just 'stolen her thunder', whatever that means. I look at Katniss, who is smiling at the two before looking back at me, her eyes shining when they do so.

_Do you think they actually like this? The whole bantering part? s_he asks me while the car slowly stops.

_Who knows? Maybe they actually like each other, and express their feelings this way_.

Katniss nearly snorts, and the car fully stops. The door opens, and a man dressed in red is at the other side, holding it open. The four of us get into a car, and we are taken towards a couple of doors. I look at Katniss, not wanting to be separated from her, and then at Haymitch.

"This is where you get separated, kids. Each of you has a different prep team. Don't worry, you'll see each other before the parade. Just remember, don't complain," the man tells us.

Before she is taken away, though, I pull her to me and kiss her softly, engraving the feeling in my mind before letting her go.

"_I love you_," I tell her, both with my mind and my voice.

"_I love you too_," she replies in the same way, before we are taken through the doors.

Inside, I meet two men and a woman, all of them either tattooed or dyed, as it seems to be the norm with the people in the Capitol. One of the men has tinted his skin and his spiky short hair blood red, the other has his cheeks tattooed with silver symbols and his lips are green, and the woman has diamond studs in her cheekbones and forehead. She is the first to notice I have arrived, and she approaches me.

"Hello, you must be Peeta, right? I am Niobe, these are Lucius and Drusus, we are in charge of making sure you are perfect and ready for the parade and then for the interview with Caesar and if you win we'll be with you for the Victors' Parade and the entire Victory Tour and maybe we might even continue prepping the next District Twelve Tributes or be ascended to dress other Tributes, isn't that nice?" she says, giggling.

I blink, trying to make sense of everything I have just heard. She is speaking so fast, it takes a bit to actually manage to understand what she is saying. She reminds me a bit of Delly, actually, but her peppiness is somewhat less comfortable when taking into account the fact that I am pretty much slated for death. However, I cannot blame her for that. Lucius – the red man – and Drusus – the green-lipped man – also come to me and say hello.

"So, where do we begin with?" I ask them.

"Well, first thing, you are having a shower," Lucius tells me, handing me a towel. "I'll take care of the details, don't worry. Then, we are going to get rid of any excess of dead skin and hair and make sure you are presentable before you meet Portia. Her and Cinna are the ones that have designed your costumes."

"It's quite great that you are so handsome, we do have half our work cut out for us," Drusus continues.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask.

"Oh, honey, don't worry much about it, just, you know, you look nice with this color and skin combination, it is impressive they are actually natural, but I think that with the right touches you'd become just perfect," Niobe says.

"Niobe, remember Portia's orders. Just beauty base zero. They want him as natural as possible."

"Yes, yes, I know that. I just think that a few touches here and there would make him look a lot better to everyone..."

"Niobe," Lucius interrupts her with a warning tone, before pulling me away to a small door at the side. "Take off your clothes and shower. Just turn on the shower with the big button, and don't worry about anything that happens there, it's perfectly normal."

I do not have the time to tell him I already had a shower after I woke up this morning before he opens the door and gently pushes me through before closing behind me. Either way, I guess he would have not cared at all.

I shrug off my clothes and soon I stand naked in the shower, letting the water fall down on me. Instead of having soap fall on me, it is applied directly into the water. I do not even have to move, because I get scrubbed in by several sponges coming from the walls. By the time I get out of the shower, wearing only a towel around my waist, I feel my skin is raw, and perhaps a bit itchy. At least, I did not get showered with rose petals this time.

I open the door, and Niobe is there already, chattering like a jabberjay and as if her life depended on it, barely letting Drusus or Lucius have a word in. I still manage to answer some of her questions as she takes care of all of my nails, eliminating all the irregularities, while Lucius takes care of my hair and Drusus takes care of 'eliminating all the extra hair', which means a very painful waxing session that pulls out every hair from my legs and arms, as well as taking a pincer to my eyebrows and plucking several of my hairs there, which somehow rivals with the pain in the rest of my skin. I am so glad that he is leaving my groin alone: I guess I would be cursing out loud if he did not.

They then scrub most of my skin with some sort of grub that eliminates whatever dead skin remains and soothes the waxed places. The pain subsides, and it feels so great that I can fully relax on the chair/table hybrid I am lying on while Niobe continues with my nails and her chatter.

It is only a few minutes later that they finish, having brought me to 'beauty base zero', which, according to Niobe – after I managed to ask her in one pause she made to breathe – is supposed to be a flawless but natural style state that can be used to lead towards whatever they feel is going to be needed, and now they have left, so I am just waiting for Portia, my stylist, dressed with a soft robe of some material that feels like silk, but it is different in texture.

Finally, the door opens, and a woman enters. She is dark skinned and has long blond hair, which produces a very strange contrast. Surprisingly for a woman that is from the Capitol, she shows very little signs of being such, as she only wears little make up, only a few touches of gold around her eyes and red lipstick.

"Peeta? I'm Portia. Nice to meet you," she says, smiling and extending her hand. I take it, smiling at her and feeling at ease with her attitude.

"The same to you," I reply.

"I'm sure you would rather be anywhere but here, Peeta. In fact, I'd rather no one had to go through what you do. But, well, this is the best thing I can do."

"You know, you are the first person from the Capitol I've met that is not enthusiastic about the Games," I tell her.

"We are not many, unfortunately," Portia tells me. "I wish we were, though. Now, I'm supposed to be here to dress you up in some ridiculous costume or other, but Cinna and I have planned something different. It's quite unorthodox, but I think you'll like it."

"Cinna?" I ask her.

"Your partner's stylist. She's Katniss, right? Like the plant?"

"Yeah," I reply, a bit surprised that she knows where Katniss got her name from.

"Well, we are going to have lunch with them both and talk about your costumes. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, not at all," I reply, happy to spend a bit more time with Katniss.

"Then, come with me. We can have lunch with them while we speak."

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

I like Cinna. He is clearly Capitol, but he is quite obviously not enamored with the entire culture in there, because the only thing that shows him as a Capitolite is some gold lines at the sides of his eyes. He is the most natural-looking person I've seen from the Capitol, and I feel like I can relax next to him, that he can actually be a friend for me. He is sweet, nice and sincere. He understands what the Hunger Games actually represent for us in the Districts.

"Were you assigned District Twelve?" I ask him. Our district is the least successful of all in the entire history of the Games, so most stylists would never willingly want to be associated with the losers. Cinna amazes me when he shakes his head.

"No. I asked for District Twelve."

"Why?"

"That's an answer better reserved for when our guests come here," he replies with a smile. Before I can ask him about that, a knock is heard in one of the doors at the side, the one opposite to the shower room. "Ah, here they are."

The door opens, and first enters a dark-skinned woman with blond hair, but behind her is Peeta, smiling at me and wearing a robe that is identical to the one I am wearing. I blush when I realize I am almost naked under this robe, and that he must also be on the same state. That also brings some heat to my body, as well. If it were just the two of us, I might have been tempted to rush him and try to see what is under the robe, even though, before today, the idea of a naked male was a bit too much for her.

"Hello. You must be Peeta," Cinna says with a smile, standing up and shaking his hand.

"Cinna, right?" Peeta replies, smiling as well.

"Indeed. Now, why don't we sit and have some food?"

The four of us sit on a table. Peeta and I stick together, relishing the contact we can have, while Cinna brings out a few dishes from a hole in the wall. I look at that with distaste, knowing that that food has been made from the sweat of many people in the poorest districts without being compensated. He looks at me, knowing what I am thinking, and puts the dishes on the table.

"We must be like monsters to you. Us in the Capitol taking everything from the Districts and giving little back to them."

I shrug, trying not to say anything, but he smiles at me sadly.

"Don't worry. I feel the same way. Now, let's eat. The parade will be very tiring, and I am sure you'll want to save energy for the Games."

I look at Peeta out of the corner of my eye, and he does the same.

_So, how much did it hurt?_ I ask him while I stab a piece of what I think is pork, bathed in some brown sauce.

_Like hell_, he replies while he eats some fish in green sauce.

"To answer your question, Katniss," Cinna says, "we – that is, Portia and I – picked your District to work with because we admire you. You are probably the ones that suffer the most from the situation you live in, and yet you keep going forward. No one from the Capitol would be able to get through the same thing. And I include myself in that."

I know he is being sincere, and it makes me respect the man even more than before.

"As for the part that is important right now... your costumes. Well, I am sure that none of you wants to be wearing those miner outfits from previous years, much less being covered in coal dust. Am I right?"

"Yeah," I say. I must say I am glad about that. Those outfits are horrible and way too skimpy, while going fully naked and covered in coal dust is definitely a big no-no: it was hard enough for me to get fully naked in front of my prep team. About the only person I might be willing to drop any clothes off for is Peeta.

"We had thought about doing something that symbolizes the coal, and the fact that it burns, but we did some research on your District customs, and we found something we thought would be beautiful," Portia continues. "Are you two a couple?"

The sudden question catches us by surprise, and somewhere, somehow, I know what this 'something' Portia speaks about is.

"Yes," Peeta replies. "But just since a few days ago."

"I'm sorry, then," she says, sorrowful. "I can't even imagine what you must have gone through when you were Reaped."

"Thanks," I say softly.

"Well, back to the costume, we read about the ceremony you call 'toasting', and we thought it could actually be a part of it."

"How, exactly?" I wonder how they can make what is a marriage ceremony part of something that celebrates the death of several teenagers. Instead of answering, Cinna brings out a piece of white cloth, but with a strange tone that makes it look just a bit darker.

"Looks a bit like the inside of a bread loaf," Peeta says.

"That's the idea. However, this is the interesting part. Cinna, if don't mind?"

Cinna pulls out something out of a small bag and clicks on a button. A flame wisp comes out of one small tube of what he has grabbed.

"This is part of what we are going to use in your costume. It is a synthetic fire we have developed. It burns at a low temperature, probably a bit higher than the human body. Now, look what happens." Cinna applies the fire to the white cloth, and it slowly becomes golden, some spots being darker and some others lighter.

"I get it," Peeta says. "You want to make us look like we are toasts."

"Not exactly. Your costume is going to be done with two cloths. One that is black, to represent the coal, and the other is this one. And, when we combine them with this fire, the result is going to be impressive."

~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~MDB~~~

I must say that I am not completely sold on Cinna and Portia's idea. Sure, they say they have tested this synthetic fire of theirs several times and that it cannot burn us nor our costumes – the cloths are fire-proof, they say – but accidents can happen. Burning alive is not one thing I want to go through, particularly after going through many burns myself.

Well, if something happens, I am sure I or Katniss can stop it fast. Here is to hoping it does not come to that.

In the meantime, I am getting dressed. Instead of bringing me back to the room assigned to me, Portia and Cinna just put a curtain in the middle of the room and work on us. Katniss and I manage to speak across the room, trying to calm each other for what is about to come, while Portia puts some special make up on my face and arms that, when it makes contact with some other liquid, it will slowly darken with my body heat, further driving home the whole comparison with the toasting ceremony. I feel that it is a bit ridiculous, but, well, Haymitch did say that we should not complain.

After some time, she hands me the first part of my costume: the undergarments. Coal black, of course, and it feels surprisingly good against my skin. Portia has the decency to turn around while I put them on, but as soon as I do that and shed the robe, that goes out of the window. At least, she only looks at me professionally: I do not think I could deal with her looking at me like a piece of meat.

I am given every other piece of clothing slowly, so that Portia can be sure that all of it fits well together. The black trousers and shoes are first, and then comes the bread-like shirt. All of it seems to be made of the same material as the undergarments, even though I know the shirt is, in theory, from a different cloth.

I think that is everything, but then Portia produces something else out of her bag: a long black cape.

"Are you sure this won't burn?" I ask her. Portia laughs.

"Don't worry about that, Peeta. If anything burns, it will be the people's passion when they see you two. You are going to look great."

I shrug and let her put the cape on me, as well as a tiara, which she says is a subtle way of telling others that I am a winner already. I push that thing out of my mind. It is not something I want to think about.

After setting the tiara on my head, and checking that everything is on its place, she declares me prepared for the parade. It is only a few minutes later that Cinna says the same, and then they pull the curtain away. And when I see Katniss, I smile, because she looks magnificent in the costume that is almost identical to mine. Black shoes with short heels, trousers that hug her legs all the way from her ankles to her hip, a not too tight short-sleeved top that hugs her upper curves in ways her normal clothes do not, a long black cape and a tiara over her long hair, tied down in her classical braid. I have to breath really deep and keep my mind blank to avoid getting hard, and it is real difficult not to.

"You look really beautiful, Katniss," I tell her aloud. _I wish we were alone to show you how much I love you,_ I tell her with my mind. She blushes prettily, and smiles back.

"You look real handsome, Peeta," she replies with a wink._ Show me tonight, then._

"You two look fantastic," Cinna says, smiling. "You will be catching the eye of every person out there when you show up, mark my words."

"Thank you for this, both of you," I tell our stylists.

"Anything that helps you. Now, let's go, the parade will begin soon."

I offer Katniss my hand, and she takes it, still smiling, as we walk out of the door. The people here have clearly been very busy, because the space where the cars dropped us of earlier is now occupied by twelve chariots, all of them pulled by a couple of enormous horses each. Horses are very rare at District Twelve, and the few that live there are quite small. The two in front of the chariot nearest to us – the one marked with the seal of our District – are coal black, while the others run the gamut from the white of District Four to the dark brow of District Seven.

"Close your eyes, both of you. I'm going to spray you." Cinna tells us. I close my eyes, and then I feel a liquid being thrown against my face and arms in little droplets. "Up you go, then."

Katniss easily hops on the chariot, and I follow her. Just the act of doing this makes me feel separated already from the rest of the world. Only Katniss exists in this world, she is the only one I can share anything with.

"I'll light the fire when it's your turn. A suggestion: keep a hold of each others' hands, no matter what. It'll show that you are together in this."

I turn to my side, to look at Katniss. She is still smiling, but I can notice that there is a difference in it. It is sad, almost longing, as she looks forward.

_What's wrong, Katniss?_ I ask her while I caress the back of her hand with my thumb.

_I guess... I was just trying to pay no attention to all of this. I could just push the Games to the back of my mind, but now, as soon as we go out there, it becomes real. And I hate it._

_So do I,_ I tell her. _It's not easy to do this, when I know that either of us could die. But we still have each other._

_And if it falls down to the two of us?_

_Then, we find a way to convince the Gamemakers to let us both be Victors at the same time._

_Wouldn't that be nice?_

As we 'talk', the first chariots are starting to move. Even from where we are, we can hear the screams of enthusiasm from the people that have come to watch the parade.

"I'm going to start the fire now. Just remember, don't try to stamp it out, it's not going to harm you."

_And if it does? _Katniss asks me.

_Make you a deal. If it burns, you pull my cape, I pull yours,_ I reply.

_And the rest of the clothes?_

_We use the cape to drown the fire._

_It's a deal, then. _

I hear Cinna is trying to start a spark and I breath deeply, trying to calm myself and not freak out at the fact that I am about to be set on fire.

"There," Cinna says, happily. "The trick worked."

It does not feel like I am burning. More like the feeling you have when you have your legs covered with a warm blanket while you are sitting next to the fireplace. It starts near my feet, and it slowly spreads up my legs, covering them in heat before reaching my waist and back. I open my eyes and look down at the black trousers that are now brightly shining in tones that run the entire gamut from dark red to bright yellow, and the flames moving upwards towards my chest. The shirt is already changing, a few spots becoming now a bit brown.

While I am admiring the changes brought by the strange fire, our chariot begins to move. I stumble a bit, but Katniss, who still has her hand on mine, helps me avoid the fall.

"Careful, Peeta, don't want you to get hurt," she says, softly. I turn to her...

… and I lose my breath. She is beautiful. So beautiful. She has always been beautiful. How could she not be? She is the most beautiful girl in the world, and she proves it at every moment.

But now... now she does not look like a girl.

She looks like a woman.

A woman in fire. A woman surrounded, crowned with fire. A dangerous, fierce woman, ready to struck her enemies. A woman that is almost divine. A woman that can make me or break me with just a look or a word.

"Katniss..." I whisper, trying to breath in air to replace what I lost when I looked at her.

"Peeta..." she replies, in the same whispered tone, looking in the same way I think I am looking at her.

_I love you._

I do not know if I thought that, or if she did, or if it was both of us at the same time. I raise the hand that is not holding hers and slowly caress her face, losing what little attention I still had for what is going on around us.

She is the only thing that exists in my universe now.

I drop my hand and place my arms around her waist. She puts hers around my neck.

We kiss. We close our eyes. We are hungry, and only our mouths can provide the sustenance we need.

We are on fire.

**A/N: Well, that's another chapter, and we come nearer to the beginning of the Games!**

**First place, I'll try to explain why Katniss and Peeta seem so... enthusiastic, even when they know they could die. Basically, the feelings from their joint dreams bleed a bit through to them, so both of them are becoming a bit more like their dream selves, but without losing what makes them them. Any OOCness can also be blamed on this.**

**Other thing that I wanted to talk about is about suggesting this bunny for a THG fanfiction: something based on Dungeons & Dragons with the The Hunger Games characters as the warriors and mages that fight against evil sorcerer Snow. Katniss would be a Ranger, Peeta would be a Paladin, Gale could be a Fighter, Madge a Bard... It would be fun to see what people can come up with. In fact, I'd make it a challenge. For further ideas, check the webcomic _The Order of the Stick_.**

**If you want to imagine Niobe, think about her like Daisy Wick from _Bones _(Sweets' ex-girlfriend).**

**Now, the recommendation: "Aboard the Mockingjay" by undertheaegisof (Story ID: 8879804). Katniss Everdeen is the Captain of the Avian-class spaceship _Mockingjay_, which traverses the Twelve Districts smuggling from the Kapitol, several years after the Rebellion was defeated. However, when Doctor Peeta Mellark and brothers Thresh and Rue board the M-Jay as passengers, the crew will get involved in the games of politics, as well as problems with crooked contacts and, perhaps, even a bit of love. (Yes, it is _Firefly_ with The Hunger Games characters!)**

**Now, the reviews (come on, seriously? Here I thought you guys were actually interested in the story. Only 2 reviews... at least someone took the time to review chapter 1):**

**Zoey303: glad you liked it. Some more substance in your reviews wouldn't be amiss, though.**

**fayriegirl: I'm happy you like the twist (not much of one, though). I'm surprised you don't mention the fact that Katniss and Peeta are pretty much acting as if they were boy/girlfriend already.**

**heggyy: yeah, it is a bit curious. I wanted to make it a bit of a crossover with Harry Potter, but I knew that such a crossover would not be interesting. I first believed that I could try to do it so that all the THG characters were magical, and the Games actually used magic as a weapon, but I figured it would be a lot more interesting if magic were as mysterious and rare as in Harry Potter, and that's when I wrote about how Katniss and Peeta were magical and had that special connection. So far, there's only one confirmed character (apart from K&P) that is going to be magical, and another that might be magical, but I am not sure if I should use that character in that way. **

**Dora the explora: *blink* seriously? That's your review? And wishing for my best friend to be ill is not exactly the best way to make me want to update. Anyway, here it is. Would you kindly leave a review with more substance for this chapter?**


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